Zootopia: Retribution
by mlgfedora
Summary: Oscar Donnelly. A man with a troubled past. He wants to be left alone. How will he react when he is thrown into a strange new world. And can he protect his newly found allies? Read to find out. Rated T for minor language, some violence, and casual drinking.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Return

There were very few things I enjoyed in this world. One would be the view off the back deck of my house in northern Alaska. Another, would be the nearly empty glass of whiskey I was clutching. The sun shinned brightly over the lake behind the house. Currently, I was gazing out the door to the deck. I noticed the reflection of a woman, in her early twenties standing in the doorway of my home.

"Who are you," I asked

"A friend. Someone from your old life," she replied

"I don't exactly have a lot of friends nowadays, especially after leaving my line of work."

"The agency does not forget, Mr. Donnelly. You were in your prime when you left, and you still are."

"First off, don't call me Mr. Donnelly, it makes me feel old. Secondly, I was in my prime _physically._ The stuff I have had to see and endure would make rookies like yourself resign on the spot."

"You illegally resigned four years ago Oscar. Don't forget that."

"I didn't exactly have a choice. It was either that, or put up with all the red tape keeping me from doing my job."

"We all remember the Brooklynn Incident. Tragedy strikes all of us at least at one point in our lives, I'm afraid. However, the fact that you have seen so much, is precisely why I am here."

"Why is that?"

"Oscar, I'm going to cut to the chase. Your life is in in great danger."

"Well, why should I come with you? Not many people know about this place."

"If we could find it, the people who want you dead, aren't far behind."

"Why should I go with you? I can hold my own in a fight."

"A few reasons. One, we have a platoon of marines outside your house, ready to breach you front door. Two, your house is rigged to explode in five minutes, so I would start packing. And as an added bonus, if you cooperate, we can tell you what happened to your father."

"I already know. Plane crash in the mid-Atlantic."

"That's not the whole truth. Can you please just take the easy way?"

"Fine."

I ran around the house like a madman for three minutes, gathering everything I could. Honestly, I didn't own much, but this didn't stop the urgency. I grabbed my black gun case from my closet. Simultaneously, I was throwing clothes, my favorite bottle of _The Glenlivet_ single malt scotch whiskey, my laptop, and my lucky bobble head into a grey duffle bag. Lastly, I hastily packed my five-seven handgun, some spare ammo, my wallet, my phone, and my lucky zippo lighter/ "cigarettes" into a single-strapped backpack. I was now ready to go. When we left the house, sure enough, there were around twenty soldiers all aiming assault rifles at me.

"Relax, gentlemen. He's with us," she ordered.

The agent then produced a detonator and squeezed the trigger, causing an impressive explosion to shake the ground.

"There was no timer, was there," I groaned.

"We didn't exactly wanting you getting eviscerated, if you stayed in that house for five minutes and one second," she replied.

"Why did you even destroy my house in the first place?"

"To cover our tracks. If the people that are looking for you find this place, and believe me they will, they most likely will think that we killed you. Tieng up loose ends and all that crappy spy movie stuff."

"Speaking of who's after me, you never even told me who these people are."

"That is way above my paygrade. I'm only instructed to take you to the project director, back at headquarters."

"To New York City then?"

"Let's go. I've seen enough."

The flight time from Anchorage to New York City was nearly unbearable. I was sat in coach, wedged between a mother and screaming baby and probably one of the loudest snorers on the planet. I tried to tune it out with my knock off Bose headphones, but that didn't seem to work. When I arrived, the first thing I did was rent a hotel room. This was where I dumped all of my stuff and nearly passed out at one in the morning. Chris Farley yelling for someone to go away and let him sleep for the love of god jolted me awake. I always liked comedic alarms. I was supposed to meet the director at 8 am. It was currently 7:40. I had to get all the way across town in twenty minutes, in morning traffic. I threw on a grey leather jacket, some light blue acid washed jeans, an ironic t-shirt, and some grey converse all-stars. I bolted down the beige-carpeted hotel hallway, towards the elevator, jumping in just as the doors closed. Some cheesy elevator music droned through a warbled speaker as I made the three-floor descent to the lobby. Outside the hotel, there was a bike rental kiosk. I didn't have time to pay, so I threw a hundred dollar bill at the machine, broke the bike lock, and coasted towards my destination.

The building I was looking for was on Wall Street. A small, nearly empty bank (I know, hard to believe on this .7 mile street) sat neatly on the corner. When I walked through the double doors, the teller was staring blankly at an upside down magazine.

"Hello, A.C.I," I greeted

"Hello agent Donnelly. How may I assist you today," she replied.

"I would like access to the agency. Code Sierra Alpha Niner."

"Access granted. Follow me."

A.C.I was actually a robot as you may have guessed. The letters in her name stood for Automated Caretaking Individual. Her sole purpose was to make sure that no one, under any circumstances, could enter our agency, without clearance. As a bonus, she was designed to look like a stereotypical bank teller, to blend in. We walked to the back of the building, where the vault was located. A.C.I punched a code into a keypad, turned a key, and pressed another brightly colored button, causing the door to open. When it did, instead of rows of money, as would be expected, there was a well maintained hallway leading directly to the building behind us. You see, the bank wasn't really the location of the agency at all. Instead, a building with absolutely no way to gain access to it, save a well-guarded helipad, was where all of our operations took place.

"Welcome back," A.C.I said

"Thanks," I replied.

The walk down the hallway was brief. As I was casually walking past the security offices and the breakroom, I heard people mumbling, whispering to each other, and pointing at me. I was a legend within this building when I left. I guess me leaving added on to that. After rounding the corner and entering the main building, I was met with an impressive atrium. Agents like myself were bustling back and forth talking on cellphones and chatting amongst themselves. This place was really no different from any other office buildings, save that this place probably held the record for most governmentally contracted assassins within four walls and a ceiling. Decorations tended to remain the same. An ornate fountain sat directly in the center. The whole place was constructed with marble and glass. On one of the walls was our emblem. There was a main shield, with a pair of watching eyes in the center of an image of planet earth. Below it was our name, P.P.S.S or Protect Prevent Safeguard and Sabotage. We even had a Starbucks®. It was there I purchased a dark roast coffee. One sugar and no cream. I then proceeded to the elevator. The path up was entirely cased in two way glass. The outside was painted to look like a bland brick building. The inside however, sported an impressive view of New York City. I pressed the button for the 19thfloor, second from the top. This was where the director's office was. The elevator whirred to life as I ascended the building.

If I had to describe the decorations of the director's office, I would say it was classical. A small corridor led to where she worked. Engraved on a small brass plate were the words _Director Cherice Penzig: Program Director._ The enormous, cherry wood door creaked open. I stood in the doorway for a moment, taking it all in. An oriental rug covered the whole floor, leaving only a small perimeter of oak wood running throughout the office. The walls were lined with bookshelves, stocked with books that might have cost me a small fortune. A desk that looked like it had been teleported directly from the early twentieth century sat against the back wall. Behind that desk sat a woman in her early fifties. Her dazed look and deep bags under her eyes suggested that she hadn't slept in weeks. She was always a cool boss to work with, occasionally bringing coffee for the upper floor workers like myself or hosting Christmas parties at her penthouse in the Upper East Side.

"Oscar J. Donnelly. I don't believe it. ," She said in a tone of shock.

"Mrs. Penzig, good to see you mam," I replied

"You technically are not an agent, but I still am your superior. With that being said, you know I prefer Cherice. Also, would you kindly take a seat?"

"Sorry," I apologized as I sat down in a leather recliner facing the desk

"No worries. How was your flight?"

"God awful. I took two Advil, and I _still_ can't feel my arms!"

"That joke stopped being funn y a while ago. Then again, your jokes were never funny."

"The co-workers seemed to like them. Especially during the Christmas parties"

"It wasn't the jokes. The funny part was the fact that there was a professional assassin, at a Christmas party, wearing a green and red sweater. You looked ridiculous!"

"Gee, thanks."

"We would probably be here talking all day. However, we matters to attend to. I assume you have been briefed on your situation?"

"Nope"

"Damn it Jennifer you had one job," Cherice yelled as she punched a button and yelled into her phone.

"Sorry, I lost the file on the plane. I could barely find Agent Donnelly's house without having to talk to some locals for about 6 hours. The English to Canadian dictionary wasn't very helpful," the agent who was at my house replied.

"Fine. I'll debrief him myself. Remember this. Next time this happens, one week's pay will be docked."

"Okay," Jennifer groaned and hung up.

"Let's get right into this shall we? Five weeks ago, one of our data caches in Eastern Berlin went offline. These caches allow our communication and file sharing network to run at twenty megabits per second by not limiting the flow of data through one area, rather multiple areas. We dispatched a security team to investigate. What they found was horrifying. Everybody employed there was found dead. Evidence of a firefight was present, but no call for help was ever made. We keep a record of every file that is copied. There were only four. A list of your possible current locations, all of our currently active field agents, all of our safe house locations, and all data gathered on project rho."

"What's Project Rho?

"I'll get to that. One of our undercover agents in a terrorist cell, intercepted a speech at a rally, the day after the incident. All of this footage was live. Take a watch."

She turned on a laptop and turned it to face me. Some footage was playing. It appeared to be being filmed from an eye contact camera (a favorite of field agents for gathering data, unnoticed). He appeared to be in a crowd of hundreds of people in a field. A well-lit stage stood at the end of the mob. A man in a grey jacket, grey dress pants, and a red button down shirt walked out on stage and proceeded to speak.

"Greetings. You all know me and you all know what we want," he said, invoking a cheer from the crowd.

"Time and time again, our plans have been foiled by one group. You know them, I know them. The moles that call themselves the P.P.S.S, have stopped us nearly every time. I for one am tired of it. How about you?"

More cheers from the crowd erupted. From the camera moving around wildly, I could tell he was starting to become unnerved.

"Last night's raid was a success. I am afraid I have some bad news. After looking at their files, we found out about over 30 undercover agents in our midst. In fact, one is here tonight. A mister Jefferson? White, about 5'8, 250 pounds, tattoo of a clock on his wrist, always facing noon, which was the time he was born."

Mumbling and yells of rage could be heard from the crowd. The camera started to back away. I winced, as he was disobeying the one rule of being discovered. Act inconspicuous.

"That's what I thought," the man said as he raised his hand producing a bluish colored orb and fired at Jefferson.

The screen became wobbly, as the man seemed to appear on the stage within the blink of an eye. Jefferson tried to stand up, but was knocked back down to the stage, by what appeared to be a metallic arm. When the agent turned to look at the leader, this was when I got a good view of his appearance. His face appeared to be severely tanned, with an elongated scar running across it. A small portion of his face was partially blocked off by a strand of oily black hair that hung loose from the rest of the slicked hair. One of the sleeves on his jacket was rolled up to reveal his arm. Instead of a normal arm, it was replaced with a metallic prosthesis glowing in a blue haze. In his other hand, he clutched a red-painted hand cannon. Jefferson raised his hand in front of the camera, showing the tattoo, in a futile act of defense. Without mercy, the enemy raised the gun, and fired, causing me to cringe and look away. He then carefully removed the eye-contact camera, and pointed it at himself.

"Hello. There is no need for introductions, as you guys probably have about a thousand files on me. I'm going to humor myself and do one anyways. My name is Emmet Ogden. I lead this fine group of people, called the shadow. We have no religious or ideological motivation. We don't want people bowing down to us, although that would be pretty damn sweet. There is really only one thing that we hate, which is interference. You guys really know how to supply. With our most recent attack, we have all the data on you guys we could possibly need. There is just one more piece to the puzzle, Agent Donnelly. You guys already know my history with the guy, so I'll spare you the details. Know this, we have narrowed down Donnelly's location to three possible places. We will find him. Using Project Rho, we will bring your agency to its knees, and make a crap load of cash in the process. Just remember…"

A few soldiers, who I recognized as agents, were pushed directly in front of the stage. Without a word, they were gunned down.

"Fear the shadow," Emmet said as he crushed the contact.

Cherice closed the laptop and turned to speak to me.

"You can see now why we called you in," She solemnly spoke.

"Son of a Bitch," I yelled. "Oh, I can see alright. I just have a few questions. A, what does this have to do with my father. And B, what the hell are we going to do."

"Jennifer wasn't supposed to tell you about your father. Damn, I really need to fire that girl."

"I still deserve to know."

"Fine. Have you ever heard of the Philadelphia Experiment?"

"Wasn't that when that ship teleported or something?"

"Exactly. Your father, God rest his soul, was obsessed with the idea. He studied teleportation for years. One day, he ran like a mad man to my office, claiming he refined it, and made it safe for agency use. We tested it, and sure enough, he was correct. Field agents could use a small, handheld device to teleport themselves and other objects short distances."

"What happened after that?"

"Your father being your father, had to take it one step further. He claimed, that with a new version of his technology, he could teleport between dimensions and alternate reality's. He believed that we could set up a base in an alternate dimension. It was brilliant, in all honesty, but it was extremely impractical. One use soaked up hundreds of megawatts. We pulled the funding for his project. This only made him more persistent. One night, while he was in the lab by himself, he used the machine. We have no idea where it took him, but right after he used it, the machine exploded. We found no sign of his body, most likely due to him being eviscerated in the blast. Some hopefuls tried to rebuild the machine, but now, it sits in our basement collecting dust. Even the gauntlets are retired. People refused to use them out of fear of being plagued with bad luck"

"Why did you lie to me?"

"We did not want you not focusing on your job. The last thing we needed was some guy trying to fix a twenty year old machine, and not working."

"It still would have been nice to know!"

"I'm sorry Oscar, we should have told you. You were our best, and we needed you."

"I understand."

"Good. Now we need to talk about your situation. You will reside within the building for the time being. You have a bed in your office, and we moved your stuff there as well. Your full clearance will be reinstated. Any weapons or equipment you need, will be ready. That most likely won't be needed, as you'll be doing paperwork here, but none the less, it's better to be prepared"

"Won't they find me here?"

"Nonsense. We never mention our location in any of our files. Besides this place is guarded 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. Nobody can reach you without the Agency's permission."

"All righty then."

"Dismissed, Donnelly."

My office was on the 18th floor, right below the directors. Technically floor seventeen and eighteen were on the same level, Yet the 18th floor offices, were genuine offices on a catwalk, with its own breakroom and bathroom. Floor seventeen on the other hand was heavily populated with cubicles. Thank god for soundproof doors. I walked down the catwalk, and was greeted by all of my peers. Some cheered, whilst others offered the casual hi and what's up. When I got to my office at the far end of the hall, I dusted off my name plate: _Oscar Donnelly: Field Agent Rank 5._ My rank was the highest a field agent rank could go, and it came with its perks. Your own office, better and more advanced equipment, and a 750,000 dollar per year paycheck to name a few. My work was quite dangerous after all, so I guess it balanced out. My office furniture was decent. A small oak desk in the corner, some metal shelves, and a grey fold out couch, a brown tufted throw rug, mini fridge, and an obscure piece of modern art covered pretty much everything. The stuff from my hotel was already hear, which was good news, as I needed a glass of whiskey. The dark amber colored liquid couldn't have tasted better now, since I was back in the walls I left long ago. An eerie mixture of grief and homesickness filled the air, but I blocked it out with a sip of whiskey. I sat down behind my desk, and began on the mountain of paper work. I heard a voice yelling down the hallway.

"I don't know how you got Mr. Donnelley's key, but it's not exactly funny to break into a dead man's office. Who do you think you are…?" A nearly seven foot tall Russian man trailed off as she saw me behind my desk.

"Oskar, old boy, how are you," He asked

"I'm good Sergei, how are you?"

"I'm great. We thought you were dead."

"Do I look dead?"

"I guess not. Where were you?"

"Let's just say my planned retirement, turned into a four year vacation."

"They didn't bring you back. Not after the threat from The Shadow."

"They figured I would be safer here then out in Alaska. Bullet proof glass trumps lake front view in terms of safety I guess."

"They have a point there. You should come over tonight. My wife is cooking Rassolnik tonight. It's not half bad with a generous glass of Vodka. You should come over."

"Sorry Sergei, I have to fill out a lot of paperwork. Apparently pretending to be dead is a common tax dodge. That's bologna, as I payed my taxes as a guy named Hernando. To be fair, I did list my income as one dollar a year."

"You are a funny guy Oskar. We will celebrate another time, yes?"

"Da, v drugoy raz Sergei."

Sergei nodded in appreciation, and left. He was a good guy. Had the biggest heart. Ex-KGB who wanted a change from cracking skulls. You can't fault him for that. I resumed my paperwork, which took up around eight hours of my time (not counting lunch). The sun had already set. My last piece of paper went into my mailbox, and I was done. At this point, it was ten o'clock, so I was pretty tired. My near slumber was interrupted with the sound of doors breaking down.

 _Thirty Minutes earlier_

Jeff hated his job. All he ever did was clear helicopters to land occasionally. This was why he wasn't exactly expecting a distress call, especially this late.

"Breaker Breaker. This is Roger Ander smith. I have a wounded kid. Requesting clearance to land."

"Negative. Mr. Roger, this is a governmental building. No unauthorized birds allowed. There is a hospital around one click out. You can go there."

"I don't have enough fuel to make it. Please sir."

"Daddy, are we there yet" a young voice said in an inquisitive yet adorable tone.

"Jesus, I didn't believe that you had a kid!"

"Why the heck would I lie about that?"

"I don't know. Terrorists maybe? You are clear to land."

"Thankyou."

The good sized helicopter set down on the pad. Jeff ran out to open the door. When he did, he did not find a child and father at all. Instead, he was met with several heavily armed men. Their leader appeared to be wearing a black leather jacket and a white t-shirt, but his most distinguishing feature was his metallic arm. The man suddenly raised a large revolver.

"Sorry," he said still in a little kid's voice as he pulled the trigger.

The man pulled a clear plastic strip on the front of his Adams apple.

"Damn I hate those," he said in a normal, gravelly voice.

"Spread out," he ordered "Find Agent Donnelly"

Whats up people. Leave a review of you want. Feed back helps. Donnely gets teleported to zootopia in next chapter. This is just an intro.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Brave New World

There were a few drawbacks to open combat, as I had learned in training. For one, you had to reveal yourself in order to successfully pull it off. That made it nearly impossible to be able to sneak away, or flee, as your enemies most likely would track you down, hiding in some broom closet or whatever. Secondly, if you were outgunned in any way, and didn't have the element surprise, you'd be dead within a few minutes. But damn is it satisfying to hear the audible sound of a snapping jaw. I was thinking of this, as a fully armed shadow agent, busted through my door. I don't think, he expected the right hook to the face, as soon as he entered. While he was stunned, I dragged him over to the railing, and gave him a little push. The fall into the cubicle didn't kill him, but the message remained clear… _stay down!_ His ally raised a suppressed M4 carbine to fire at me. As a response, I ran directly at him, but slid at the last second. My momentum took out both of his legs, sending him tumbling to the floor. Brushing the tussle off, I got back on my feet quickly. Before the agent could react, I had already kicked him in the stomach.

"Nice…" I said while I kicked him again

"To…" I punched him in the jugular.

"Meet you…" I picked him up by his shoulders

"Too." I slammed him into the wall, knocking him unconscious.

Without delay, I picked up his weapon. Two more agents were charging up a set of stairs, but were halted with a six round burst of rifle fire. In the back of my mind, I knew I had to get out of the building. It was now that out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the elevator sitting at the back wall of floor seventeen. That was my destination. I took a shortcut, which involved me vaulting over the railing. I landed not on the floor, rather another agent. I simultaneously fired a continuous burst of shots, into his trio of friends and finished of the stunned agent with a kick to the cranium. This floor, to my knowledge seemed to be clear, but just in case, I readied my weapon. I had just passed the last cubicle when my weapon seemed to disappear out of my hand. I looked around wildly, and spotted a shadowy figure standing on the top balcony, holding my weapon.

"Looking for this," a familiar gravelly voice spoke.

Time seemed to slow as I drew my handgun and fired at the balcony. My shots never connected. Instead, Emmet seemed to disappear. His voice spoke up again, not from the balcony, but from right behind me. I whirled around, but caught a punch to the face. As I started to black out, I heard two final words.

"Too slow."

My eyes started to blink open, when I realized I was in the basement of the agency. There was the normal stuff you'd expect to find down there like a boiler and some grainy light fixtures. Then there was the stuff only local to the P.P.S.S. There were some more exotic items dotting the storage tables around the room, like a grapple hook and a box of exploding pens. This was where inventions came to die. I turned my head to the left, catching a glimpse of a door shaped object wired to numerous junction boxes and computer screens. All of these wires connected at a central point, which was a pedestal with a large on and off switch, guarded carefully by Emmet. Out of nowhere, I felt something hit me in the ribs.

"Wakey, Wakey," I heard grunted from one of Emmet's goons

Emmet noticed I was awake, and ordered the guards to stand me up, and keep me at gunpoint.

"Mr. Donnelly! What a surprise. How nice of you to join us this evening."

"Cut the bull shit, Emmet. If you're going to kill me, might as well do it now."

"And make you a martyr and me a target? Don't be silly Oscar. I'm going to put you somewhere no one will find you, and my agents will tidy up."

"What that thing," I gestured with my head towards the teleporter "Damn piece of machinery doesn't even work."  
"Really? McCoy, throw the switch."

A man across the room pressed a few buttons and threw the on switch causing a blue tinted portal to open. What I saw at the other end was a deserted highway with fields of dead grass on both sides.

"People will find me you know."

"What? You mean the 10 people that believe you to be alive. Let's run this down shall we. That air headed agent, Jennifer I believe, is currently face down in a ditch in south Ohio. That security team is all dead as well. That robot is reset. Oh, I almost forgot. That Sergei guy's car is rigged to explode. That's pretty much everyone."

"You forgot about the director."

"That old bat? Nobody would believe her anyways. She's quite old at this point, and paired with her drinking habit makes a cocktail of untrustworthiness."

I was pretty shocked from hearing Emmet's words. It was happening again. I got to close to people, and now, they were paying the price. I'm such an idiot. I thought this time would be different. Maybe I was a fool to think that I actually could protect the people I cared about. I snapped out of my state, when I was thrown through the portal. All of my stuff was in a nice neat pile (probably getting ready to be burned judging by the smell of gasoline in the air) I rolled away, as 3 three armed agents loaded their weapons.

"You're not going to kill me," I said in a mix of confusion and shock.

"No. All three of these people's lives have been ruined because of you. They can have your death. I'll take more satisfaction in destroying everything you have achieved."

"On your knees," The agent in the middle ordered.

I complied and faced away from them, looking down the road. I could see in their shadows, that they were raising their weapons. I couldn't accept my fate. Not like this. Almost instantaneously, one after the other slumped to the ground dead. As soon as the last one dropped, I made a dash for the portal. Emmet was firing wildly at me. I knew that in his heart, he knew that I planned to make him pay for his actions. I was closing the gap, but I could see the portal dimming. I sprung through the air, just as the portal closed, hitting hard concrete instead of linoleum floor. Doing a brief scan of the bodies, I could plainly see they were killed by a sniper. Each had a small hole in their helmet. What kind of person had access to armor piercing rounds, this far in the backcountry. Then reality hit me. I was now being hunted. Emmet wasn't going to take too kindly to three of his men being killed. I cursed under my breath and began to punch the air for god knows why.

"GOD DAMN IT," echoed through the air

I felt a small prick on my neck, and the lights began to dim.

"Oh you are kidding me right now," I said as I passed out

I woke up a few hours later. The first thing I checked was that my wallet was still here. Don't ask why. It just became a force of habit after all of my times blacking out drunk. Everything remained the same, save that there was now a house key in one of the pockets, and my currency being replaced with some weird looking twenty dollar bills. Instead of Andrew Jackson, there was an image of a buck in a business suit. What reality was I in? Animal Worshiping Cultists? PETA now controlling the government? I had no idea, and I wasn't exactly in the mood to cause my head to explode. My top priority was to find out exactly where I was. With that goal in mind, I picked up my bags, and headed south down the main road.

The first thing that I noticed, was a small scrap yard. I passed under the big metallic sign, advertising the lot. Big Joes Salvage, it read in bold red letters. Luckily, I spotted a semi-damaged Volkswagen beetle in the corner. When I opened the door, and checked the dash, a set of car keys fell on to the patched, cloth seat. Say what you want, but my luck can be pretty uncanny at times. The gas was pretty low, but it was drivable. Plus there was a quickie-mart a few miles up the road. That was my next destination.

A few minutes of driving brought me to the gas station. I chose regular and stood in the open air for a few minutes, filling "my car". These were the kinds of moments I missed. Something so small like buying gasoline, without the fear of being shot felt nice. This was the case in Alaska, but not here (wherever here was). At least the sun was just starting to rise. For some reason, the sun reminded me of some eggs. This spurred me to go into the store to get some food. Interdimensional travel sure does work up an appetite! One thing I learned in the agency about shopping inconspicuously is to not make eye contact with anybody. Shop keepers especially. The back row of the shop was where all the crappy junk food was kept. I eyed some ready to go breakfast sandwiches. However, these were not like the ones I was used to. Sure, they had eggs and cheese, but that's where the similarities ended. One had kale and carrots on it (deffinently avoid). One had tofu (nope). Lastly, there was one plain one at the back of the shelve.

"Thank god," I praised under my breath.

The problem with my method of remaining unnoticed was the fact that I missed a lot of stuff. In fact, I was so absorbed that I did not notice that the man behind the counter wasn't a man at all, rather a dingo in a patched green sweatshirt.

"Welcome to quickie mart. How can I help you," he asked in a southern accent

The voice sounded so close to human, I responded normally. I wasn't even looking in the direction of the cashier (out of the window), which added on to my inability to pay attention to my surroundings and his inability to question what I actually was.

"I'll just have the sandwich." I placed a twenty dollar bill on the counter "keep the change"

I resumed my drive, when a thought hit me. If I was in an alternate reality, my agency could still exist. If I could somehow find a way to contact them, maybe I could get out of this mess. My phone wouldn't work, as I had no service. There was still a glimmer of hope. If I could use someone else's phone, maybe I could finally get out of this mess. It was then, that I noticed a small farm house. That gave me an idea. At the academy, we were taught a multitude of ways to get into contact with the agency. The best one in my opinion, is to pretend that your car is wrecked, find a nearby house, and fake calling a mechanic. I stopped at the nearest house, which appeared to be a farm. Parking my car a little bit up the road (just far enough that someone could see it, but not tell how damaged it was), I walked up to the door. They seemed to be growing carrots, oddly enough. Then again, my location appeared to be in northern California, judging by the landscape, which rationalized the carrot farming. I arrived at the door, standing on a carrot welcome mat. I then politely knocked on the door.

"Hold on a second," a female voice said from inside the house.

I waited for a few seconds, glancing at my Rolex and taking in the environment. I was just starting to get bored, and considered moving on to the next house. As if right on cue, the door handle turned, and the door creaked open.

"Hi mam, I was wondering if I could use your phone. My car is…"

I trailed off when I noticed that the person wasn't human, but a small bunny. When she walked out of the house, on two feet, I nearly jumped a few feet. Then our eyes met.

"Gah, what in the heck are you," she yelled, surprised.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing,"

"What, are you an alien," she asked again. Turning to the house, she yelled, "Stu, you got to see this."

I was getting pretty flustered at this point, so I decided to make my exit. Making a mad dash for my car, I heard some commotion from the house, and some yelling. I didn't care. I just needed to get the heck out of dodge. I practically jumped into my car, and sped off down the road. It took me an hour of driving down a deserted highway to calm down. Still, I was seeing billboards everywhere, advertising products with cringe worthy animal puns. Then something caused me to put on my breaks. I stepped out of my car, and ran up a nearby hill to get a better look. What I was seeing appeared to be a gleaming an advanced city, broken up into what appeared to be districts. In all honesty, it appeared to be quite scenic. Must have been better than New York.

"What the shit," I said confused under my breath.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: The Chase

Hotels aren't very cheap. I had learned that from my days working for the agency. My job required me to travel a lot. A good way to tell, would be to look at the building. Cheaper establishments, generally had more shoddy construction, whilst the richer places had more of an elaborate, artsy construction style. After a few hours of driving through the city (traffic was quite confusing, due to all of the lanes), I found a decent looking establishment. A bright red sign flashing Paragon Hotel. The best part about this place, was that it was in the center of the city, amongst the life and bustle. Too much going on makes it quite hard to track (or be tracked in my case). As an added bonus, seemed to be inexpensive enough (not to fancy construction, and mostly average model cars parked out front). I only had two hundred dollars to my name, so I could probably only afford a few nights. I could find other ways to make money in the morning. I always prided myself on my ability to find a job very quickly. With my bags in hand, I pushed open the door. Immediately, I noticed the female deer wearing a black pantsuit sitting behind the desk (most likely the desk clerk).

"Howdy," I said casually.

"Hello, Welcome to the Para…," she was cut off when she saw my appearance. I casually replied with the international sign for quiet, and three twenty dollar bills.

"I would like a room please," I asked politely

"O-Oh okay," she replied still flustered, "We have one available on the fourth floor. Is that okay," she asked.

"That would be lovely," She handed me the keycard, room 37 in bright red letters engraved on the side, and I began to walk away. I then heard the clerk speak up.

"What exactly are you?"

"A human," I answered honestly, and with a twinge of annoyance.

"Never heard of them before,"

"I wonder why," I said under my breath.

I took the elevator up. Corny elevator music played quite loudly, but not enough to block out the whirring hydraulics of the lift. I still had no idea where I was. The lady (would you call her that?) at the front desk's response startled me. Were there really no humans in this world? That was kind of horrifying. At the same time, it felt kind of liberating. I was never a very social person, with very few friends. I arriving here could be like the ultimate restart button. The doors dinged open, allowing me to escape the shag carpeted, metal box. A short walk led me to my room. With a swipe of the keycard, the door clicked open. I was met with a decently furnished hotel room (king sized bed, mini bar/ fridge, TV, and an impressive window). Immediately, one thing became clear. I needed a drink. I retrieved some ice and a glass from the fridge, and opened my suitcase. The first thing I saw was my bottle of _The Glenlivet_ single malt scotch whiskey. The ice cracking, from the dark amber colored liquid, couldn't have been more of a welcoming sound. Standing by the window, I took a whiff of the glass. I could smell the chewy sultanas and the Sherrie peels. I then took a sip, and was met with notes of oak, apple, and walnut. The burn of the alcohol was almost counteracted by a note of oak, but not quite. This reminded me of the events two days ago. Instinctively, I looked to the door. When I say nobody, I let out a small chuckle. My brief moment of reminiscing, was interrupted by a wave of depression. I got Jennifer killed. If I hadn't left the agency, maybe she would still be alive. After all, no need to track me, would present no need for her to leave her desk. The darkness of realization that I was all to use to begin to envelop me. I then did the only thing I could do. I chugged the last of my glass of whiskey. At this point, it wasn't for enjoyment. I was just trying to block out my demons. The kinds of Demons, to cause incessant flash-backs and paranoia. The kind of demons that had ruined my life. The burn was quite overwhelming causing me to hack and cough for a few minutes. The good news was, my violent depression was gone. I felt quite claustrophobic in this room, and I was starting to get hungry. I clicked open the gun case, revealing a small stash of armaments ranging from assault rifles to combat knifes. Grabbing my wallet (with only 40 of my now 140 dollars), my handgun, a security baton, and my pack of cigarettes, I left the room.

The city was alive, living and breathing. Streets acting as veins and capillaries. Citizens as cells, each with a designated goal. In this organism, that I learned was called Zootopia, there was a heart. It appeared to be Times Square (or at least this version of it). Every mammal imaginable converged here, at some point. It was quite awe inspiring. I casually walked through the streets, keeping my head down. Along the way, I noticed horrendously puny ads, like the Nike symbol, with text overlaying it reading Just Zoo It, and Shrew Apron, which appeared to be some food delivery service. The stores I passed weren't much better, ranging from Urban Snoutfitters to Starbucks (literally). I found what I was hoping to find, after a good fifteen minutes. It was a vending machine that appeared to serve sandwiches. With some pep in my step, I walked over to the machine. To my dismay, it only took ones and fives. I had no bill smaller than a twenty. I then realized that I couldn't just waltz into a business and exchange a twenty for a few fives. Most likely, they would question my appearance. Photos would be taken. The media would be alerted. I could see the headlines now, _Strange Alien Appears in Zootopia._ All because I wanted a fuckin tuna fish sandwich. I needed smaller bills, and I knew how to get them. Let's just say I had perfected my sleight of hand, when my bank account reached 0.00 (and it has before, due to my gambling). Little did I know, that my actions would cause me to collide with two individuals that changed the course of my life.

My first mark was an elk, just leaving an ATM, slipping his wallet into his right coat pocket. He looked preoccupied. I walked directly at him, with my head down. Our shoulders collided. When he recoiled, that gave me the most opportune time to strike. He was too pissed off to notice the hand casually swipe the faux leather wallet from his trench coat.

"What the heck," I heard him half yell. I didn't answer. I was too busy counting the money I had just stolen. 100 dollars in tens. Not good enough, but it would keep me going for another day or two. I stood on the street corner again, sizing up the mammals that passed. I got some weird looks, but most either shook it off or powerwalked the hell out of dodge. I noticed a jaguar wearing a beige sweater vest and carrying a satchel. Sticking out of it, was a black Velcro wallet. He was currently walking to the corner food stand (selling vegan hot dogs by the smell of it). I had to move. In a matter of moments, I was walking parallel with him. As if right on cue, a car careened by, blaring obnoxiously loud gangsta rap. He only turned his head for a second, but that was all I needed. With a swipe of my hand, the wallet was in my possession. I hastily opened it, letting a horrendous _riiiiiiiiiip_ of the Velcro into the air. I could almost sense the big cats ears perk up, and feel the death glare almost piercing the back of my head. Sure, I now had twenty dollars in all five dollar bills, but at what cost.

"Hey, that mammal just stole my wallet!" he yelled in a mix of both anger and shock "POLICE!"

Across the street, I noticed two officers of the law, a white and a grey wolf, writing up a fine for jaywalking. As soon as they heard the jaguar's words, they did a full 180, facing me. They then saw that I was currently holding two wallets, one obviously not mine. The next logical thing in their minds was to book it towards me. I heard one bark something into a microphone about a potential pursuit. I realized I had to run. Oh boy, was I going to give them their money's worth.

Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde, ZPD

Patrol Car 17

South Central Zootopia

15th and main

1230 hours

It was a quiet day in Zootopia, for the crime fighting duo. A few speeding tickets and one interesting conversation with a sloth shoplifter had been the highlights of their day. The problem with where they were patrolling today, was the lack of adventure. Judy didn't exactly like the idea of patrolling here, and preferred the north side. More danger and a lot more things to see. Judy's view from her window was mostly occupied with abandoned warehouses and the occasional store or coffee shop. However, it was Nick's day to pick the patrol route. He most likely picked here on purpose, so he could catch a nap. That was only backed up with the heavy snoring and occasional twitching from her partner. She gave him a small nudge, to no avail. Judy sighed, and began to eat some of her lunch. As soon as she opened the blueberry container, Nick's eyes shot open. He tried to grab some, but was blocked by a defensive paw.

"No, nick these are mine," she scolded

"I haven't had lunch all day, Carrots" he groaned

"It's not my fault, _you_ didn't pack something."

"I planned the route to stop at Benny's at exactly 11:30. We all know what became of that."

"Why are you blaming me? If we hadn't stopped that sloth kid, he would be walking around Zootopia with a 400 dollar vase for free."

"Hey, I'm not saying we shouldn't have stopped him. All I am saying is that we could have stopped for lunch, and he would only probably be a few yards up the road. Heck, we could have a whole three course meal, and he'd still be in eyesight."

Judy was about to respond, but was cut off by the blaring of the radio.

"All units, we have a 10-80 at Times Square. Officer's Fangmire and are in pursuit. Subject suspected to be armed and dangerous. Requesting immediate backup," spoke the familiar voice of Clawhauser their dispatch.

"10-4 Dispatch. This is Car 17. We are 3 minutes out," Judy spoke into the radio

"Copy your last 17. Good Hunting."

With the last words turning to static, Nick switched on the siren and Judy floored the gas pedal, sending the car off to the action.

Oscar J. Donnelly, P.P.S.S agent

Central Zootopia

Times Square

1231 hours

Thank god for cardio. These wolves were persistent. It didn't help, that every thirty feet, I would run into another officer, causing them to join the chase. At this point, I seemed to have around 10 cops following me down the street. At least them running on two legs slowed them to a humans pace. I came upon a small office building, windows lining the side facing the opposite street. Maybe I could lose them in there? I charged through the maintenance door, sending it flying it off its hinges. I could hear the officers behind me, so I did not delay in sprinting up the stairs. I only got to the fourth floor, when I saw 3 SWAT officers repel through the window on the floor above me, cutting off my path. I kicked down the door leading to the offices. I was met with a dead end. I backed up as far I could to the window on the back wall. Police and SWAT poured through the door isolating me in a small cube, and cutting off my only escape. There were around twelve of them, and all brandished a look of shock of what I was. One of the commanding officers, a male leopard, stepped forward. The rest of the force, raised non-lethal looking weapons. When the red laser dots peppered my chest, I realized something. These guys weren't equipped for lethal combat. Here, it was probably banned. Furthermore, if I were to draw my gun and shoot one of them, it would be my head on a platter. I needed to use non-lethal combat, if things got violent. It wasn't my specialty, but I'd have to manage.

"Sir, whatever you are, you have incited a panic within these five blocks that you have covered. We have orders to bring you in," barked the leopard.

"I'm not going anywhere," I replied

"Sir, we are authorized to use non-lethal force."

"Good luck with that,"

My combat and survival training flashed through my mind. If I were ever caught by law enforcement, I would be disavowed. This was why we were taught a variety of non-lethal combat moves. The most common, was a palm strike to the nose. This was what I opened with. The leader stumbled back in surprise. While he was stunned, I unsheathed my security baton, and knocked him out cold. The other officers clearly hadn't seen my style of fighting before, which I took advantage of. They all flooded towards me, trying to get me overwhelmed. It didn't work. In the fray, managed to snag one of their rifles. It appeared to fire little pellets that emitted an electric charge. Holding down the trigger, I peppered nearly the entire crowd (while dodging their returning fire). There were only three left standing (two wolves and a coyote). One I pushed into the other causing them to stumble, allowing me to get a few good punches in. The last cop was scared shitless, aiming his weapon at me and quivering in fear. I snatched it out of his hand, broke it over my knee, and whispered "boo" causing him to take off running. I could hear the sound of feet pounding against the steps. Reinforcements. I needed an escape route. Then I noticed the window. I began to full on sprint at it. Halfway down the hall, I drew my handgun, and began shooting at the glass. Without a second thought, I jumped.

Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde, ZPD

Patrol Car 17

South Central Zootopia

15th and main

1230 hours

Judy sped through the streets of Zootopia, constantly switching lanes. The news over the radio was bad. A fight had broken out at the overview luxury office building in the northern part of the city. There were multiple reports of downed officers, causing the duo to fear the worst.

"Why won't you let me drive?" Nick asked.

"Don't you remember a few months ago?" Judy questioned

"Nope," said nick with a fake dumb look on his face

"Oh come on. You crashed through a store front, the one time I let you drive"

"I have no idea what you are talking about," said nick with the same facial expression

"Don't play dumb."

"Dumb? Your words sting, carrots, "he said with a theatrical clutch of the heart

"Hardy har har. What do you expect me to believe you have amnesia?"

"You'd laugh, but I remember a time when I woke up in a pool in Califurna, wearing a sombrero and missing a tooth."

"Sure." She chuckled

"I'm serious" Nick pulled out his phone, scrolled to his images and selected a photo. Sure enough, all of the things nick described where there, including the missing tooth. This evoked a lot of laughter from Judy. So much so that her eyes were taken off the road for half a second. That was enough time for a sizeable lump to collide with their windshield, and roll off the hood.

Oscar J. Donnelly, P.P.S.S agent

Central Zootopia

Times Square

1231 hours

If I can tell you one thing, it's this. Jumping out of a four story window is not very fun, especially if you land on a moving car. I groaned in pain, as I rolled off the now crushed hood and spider webbed glass. The smoke from the engine cleared, as two police officers, a fox and a bunny stepped out. I rolled out of the way and began to limp down the alley.

"FREEZE," I heard the bunny yell

I responded with turning towards them. The look on their faces was priceless. A mix of confusion and shock, was plastered across their faces. I casually waved, and dropped a flashbang I had picked up. As soon as I heard the miniature explosion, I limped as fast as I could down the alleyway. That was until I felt something sting me in the back of the neck. It was a tranquilizer dart. I turned to see the fox holding a small pistol. That was the last thing I saw before I blacked out.

{Hey everybody! Sorry for the wait. I was on Vaca with my family. I took a long time reading and watching movies to gather creative inspiration for this chapter. Reviews always help and are greatly appreciated. PM if you have any good ideas on jokes or plot points. Peace}

-mlgfedora


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Public Reactions

Something I'm proud about, is that I have never been incarcerated. At least not in an American prison. I served time in Romania on suspicion of less than credible activities. Did I do it? Yes I did. Was I ever tried? Nope. Was I disavowed? Deffinently not. However, I did follow protocol to the letter (escaping within 48 hours). My perfect record was broken sadly, when I was thrown into the cell in the police precinct. I was half asleep, so I barely noticed. It wasn't until I came to, that the gravity of my situation set in. I had nothing on me to escape. At least in Romania, I had snagged a toothpick and a bobby pin from the front desk. Poor bastards were still on analog locks. I checked my pockets and found nothing. That's awesome Well, I still had my badge. Hopefully that would come in handy. As an added bonus, my cell bordered an obvious thieving honey badger (shards of glass embedded in his paws) and a drug addict (based on her rocking back and forth in the corner of her cell). The door at the end of the hall shot open, revealing a brief glimpse of the offices behind it. Animals ranging in size bustled around, some cradling paperwork, whilst others were absorbed in their own thoughts. One thing remained common, which was that all were wearing navy blue police uniforms. American. They lacked side arms, which was the first thing I noticed. Strange. I had become so used to seeing firearms in my line of work, that I would feel almost empty inside if I weren't seeing one every five minutes. I was so absorbed in looking at the door, that when a group of three mammals, a panther, wolf, and an obese cheetah, walked through the door, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I could catch the last snippet of their conversation, as they walked through the cell block.

"I'm telling you Delgado, this thing was batshit crazy. You should have been there. I was _in the room,_ when the fight broke out. He took down 14 officers _at once_ ," said the wolf.

"Yeah, no shit Fangmire. When I got back into town, my work phone was blowing up. Can't I ever get a vacation?" replied the panther, who I assumed was Delgado.

"Probably not. Chiefs probably going to put us on overtime. Who knows how many of these things are in Zootopia."

"You're probably right," Delgado replied solemnly. He then turned to the cheetah "What do you think of this Clawhauser?"

"I think it's absolutely crazy. From what I saw, the officers did not handle protocol correctly at all. Any unidentified species of mammals that appears hostile must…," said the cheetah

"… Be tranquilized on the spot, in the most humane way possible. Believe me Clawhauser I know the drill. We had hardly any time before he attacked us," said Fangmire

"Well what do you make of it then, Fangmire?"

"I don't know what to think, in all honesty. In my 12 years on the force, I've never seen anything like this. All I can really say is that whatever _he_ is, He has got some seriously good skills. I timed the whole ordeal. It only took him two minutes to clear out the whole corridor. Either this guy is really lucky or he was trained to do that. The pieces don't match up."

"Why do you say that," asked Delgado.

"When that thing was brought into the station, we found a loaded handgun in his jacket."

"Are you serious? How would he get one? They aren't exactly easy to come by," said Clawhauser

"That's not even the weird part. The way he handled the Mark 2 Taser rifle suggested extensive firearms training, or at least that's what Judy said when she watched the camera footage. He was firing off hand, _while moving._ That's not easy to do on its own, especially while trying to maintain accuracy."

"Firearms training? We haven't issued that in the police department in decades," said Delgado

"My point exactly. We know this guy isn't a cop or even low level government. That begs the question of what is he."

"We'll find out in a minute, after the interrogation."

"Wilde and Hopps really have a good method going. I just hope they'll get _something_ out of this guy"

They arrived at my cell after the last one of them spoke. The wolf remained casual, as did the panther. The same couldn't be said about the cheetah. He was freaking out, saying he never got to do anything this cool. The cell door clunked open, and I was led through a corridor, through the atrium. Behind a large row of do-not-cross tape, guarded by a rhino and an elephant, stood a crowd of paparazzi. I'm sure most, if not all, were here for me. My assumption was supported, when the sound of hundreds of camera flashes and yelling filled the air as I left the holding block. Questions flew at me, but I didn't answer any. On a list of my skills that sat on my impressive resume was keeping quiet. I passed through another set of doors. I was then led to a small room, towards the back of the station. The only furnishings were a table and a few chairs. Then again, that can be expected, whilst in a police interrogation room. The officers Fangmire and Delgado connected my handcuffs to the table. Out of nowhere, a blue clipboard complete with a complicated looking sheet of paper slid onto the table.

"Take a seat," said Clawhauser. "That there on the table is an unknown species form. All mammals falling into that category are required to fill one out. It's just a few questions, so we can identify your medical needs, your species as a whole (like appearance and such), and your skills and identity in particular."

I obliged and began working on the sheet of paper. Medical needs were pretty basic. I had no family history of diseases, and my only real issue was a minor allergy to shellfish (and my alcoholism and clinical depression, but I left that off the sheet). The pop quiz on my species was another story. Let's just say I didn't pay attention in history class. Luckily, I had a few textbooks on human history and evolution. I planned on becoming a professor at the University of Alaska Anchorage. Retirement left a lot of free time. Given as I left my job, I basically extended my lifespan by a few years. Plus, my money that I had banked away wouldn't last me the next fifty something years. I put a basic outline of my species on the paper, covering the basic points like apex predators (leaving out us eating other animals, as that would cause quite a stir, if released) to some important historical events, like the pyramids being constructed and the American Revolution. Lastly came my personal appearance, profession and personality.

ZPD Individual Form

Name (first, middle, last): Oscar Jonathan Donnelly

Age and Birthday: 34 years old (Born August 6th, 1982)

Species: Human

Predator or Prey: Predator

Height: 6 feet one Inch

Weight: 182 lbs.

Fur color **:?** Skin Color: Caucasian Hair Color: Greying black

Iris Color: Yellow.

Personal Info

Occupation: Government Contractor

Average salary: 750,000 USD

Criminal Record? No

Skills: Combat Training, people person, learns quickly,

Do you drink alcohol, smoke, or do drugs? Depends on my mood. General answer: Generally (save drugs. Never touch the stuff)

When I was done filling out the form, I placed the clipboard back on the table. The cheetah took a glance over the board, thanked me for my time and left. It was about ten minutes, until I heard the door creak open. I was met with the familiar sight of the two cops from earlier, a fox and a bunny. They had swapped their uniforms for casual clothes, the fox wearing a horrendously clashing outfit of a Hawaiian shirt, purple neck tie, and khakis. The rabbit however, remained in her usual outfit, minus the Kevlar vest. The bunny picked up the clipboard and began to speak.

"Hello Mister…Donnelly. My name is Judy Hopps, and this is my partner Nick Wilde. We just want to ask you a few questions."

"A bunny named _Judy Hopps_? Jesus Christ, that's fucking adorable," I scoffed under my breath

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing," I quickly replied.

"So, Mister Donnelly how did you get here," Nick

I winced at the name "Alright, I'm going to cut you off right there. Never. Ever. Call me Mister Donnelly. I hate being called that, with all of my soul."

"Why," asked Judy

"It makes me feel old."

"Okay? You didn't answer your question Mister Donnelly."

"I was put here, against my will, by a man named Emmet Ogden." I gritted my teeth at the last word

"Well, would you care to explain why," asked Nick

"Let's just say that I and that scumbag have history. Complicated, turbulent, and downright violent history."

"Speaking of turbulence, you caused quite a stir yesterday," said nick as he threw a copy of _The Zootopia Gazette._ The headline, as I predicted, was _Strange Alien Appears in Zootopia. Injures 14, in Dramatic Foot chase._

 _"_ Here's the dealio. You tell us why you reacted that way against those officers, agree to a press conference, and the D.A's willing to cut down jail time to a few days of community service. Technically, they responded to a frightened, cornered, new species of predator, by trapping it. By not following code, they technically broke the law, making all detaining efforts from then on out, against protocol, and your actions as "self-defense". Those officers won't be reprimanded, and you won't even have to appear in court. It's a win-win for everybody," said nick

"Why?"

"Believe it or not, mammals out there are scared of you. Us shoving you into prison for a few years, would only cement fear of…" Judy glanced at the clipboard "Humans. You probably would not last a day in jail, as most of the inhabitants are neo-specieist. We can't have a death on the ZPD's hands, as there are some out there who support you, living among the fearing, believe it or not," said Judy

"You really want to know don't you? Okay. I worked for a covert group of government agents. We were trained to deal with possible threats, by civilians or low level government, _non-lethally._ It had just become an instinct." I figured if I told them, no harm no foul. After all, I'm probably never leaving this place.

"Really, and what's this agency's name?"

"See for yourself," I said, as I slid my badge across the table.

Nick picked it up, and held it against the light. "He's right. That's a government issued badge."

"P.P.S.S, huh? I'm going with my gut here. I've only done that a few times. I genuinely think Oscars not pulling our tails here," said Judy.

"Thank God. Press Conference time I'm guessing?"

"Yep, let's go?"

They began to get up and walk towards the door, whilst my hands still where cuffed.

"Uh guys, I'm kind of stuck to the table here", I said with a twinge of annoyance

They chuckled at their mistake (which to this day, I still think was a joke), and unconnected me from the table, and led me down the hallway.

In the atrium of the station sat a small table and chairs, resting on a stage. A banner behind it displayed the letters ZPD, in bold, white text. On the table sat a few microphones. One was already occupied by a large cape buffalo. He was currently being borderline interrogated by the large crowd of reporters, both professional and otherwise.

"Chief Bogo, does the ZPD have any idea about this creatures intentions here in Zootopia? For all we know, he could be some kind of terrorist," yelled a female panther, through the crowd.

"That's not for me to say," the chief said, as he gestured to me.

Immediately, hundreds of camera flashes filled the air. I gave them a cheeky smile and a wink, as I was led to my seat. I was met with the sound of a hundred voices, all grappling for my attention. The first question I answered was from a female warthog clad in a blue jacket and jeans.

"Lucile Hogwash, Eastern times. What are your intentions, whilst being here in Zootopia," she asked.

"Well, I didn't exactly plan on being here. I was kind of thrown here. However, it looks like I'm going to be here a while. Maybe I'll find a job and settle down. That's my priority right now."

She furiously scribbled notes, onto a small notepad. The next mammal I decided to speak to, was a male beaver, wearing standard business attire (suit, tie, etc.). Guy seemed to be jazzed up on coffee, but still retained an element of professionalism when he spoke. After all, he was being televised

"George Dammswort, ZBS. You mentioned you were quote on quote "Thrown Here". What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Well George, I am not exactly allowed to discuss that. However, I believe these officers sitting by me would just _love to explain."_

"This "Human", seems to be a government agent. Or at least in his world," said Judy

"And you believe he is credible?"

"The badge he was carrying is not a fake, as far as we can tell. It obeys all guidelines for production of badges, is not expired, and its serial number is correct. I have a friend in forensics, who just looked at a photo of it, and even he can tell it's not a proper badge that's been tampered with," chimed in Nick.

"We get it, the badge is real. How can you tell he wasn't lying? People impersonate government agents all the time."

"Oh that's an easy one. While we were interrogating him, we were constantly monitoring his vitals. Breathing speed, heart rate, perspiration, stuff. The tech is pretty new, as you don't even have to use wires or anything. That way, if the mammal starts freaking out, due to all of the tech or is just plain nervous about being interrogated, we can weed out those possibilities. It's proven to have a 99.91% effectiveness rate. All of his vitals checked out," said Judy.

"Okay. So _what._ You didn't answer our question."

"I made a few enemies in this line of work, none of which are of any danger to Zootopia. However, one caught up to me, and this was an act of revenge on his part," I interjected

There were a few more questions from the crowd, most of which either I, Judy and Nick, Or Chief Bogo answered. Most had to do with my past (which I kept as vague as possible). However, some were really f***ing stupid (a shifty ocelot asked me if I could time travel). I jokingly replied "Yes, but I phone booth to do so. It's pretty excellent," I finished my sentence with some air guitar, which invoked some chuckles from the crowd. Before I knew it, the conference was over, and the atrium was starting to clear out. Pretty soon, it was just me, Judy, and Nick. I checked my watch. 7:00 PM. I had to pay for my hotel in thirty minutes or my stuff would be thrown on the street. I didn't want to leave without a proper goodbye however.

"Well, that was interesting," I said sarcastically

"You can say that again," chuckled nick.

"Well, I'm beat. Do you guys know about any coffee places nearby?"

"Jerry's," they both answered in sync.

"You two want to head over there, maybe get a drink. I'll buy."

"Sure Oscar, that sounds great," said Judy, enthusiastically

"Carrots, you know that Paw and Order is on tonight. I'll barely be out of here, and will end up getting swarmed by rush hour. It'll be freaking Christmas, by the time that I get home," Jokingly whined Nick. I could tell he just didn't want to go, for other reasons, beyond me.

"Oh hush, Nick. That's what a DVR is for."

" _Fiiiine,"_ Whined nick.

I booked it back to the hotel. Luckily there was a bus, which stopped right by my hotel, I was in reality only about a twenty minute walk from the police station. The whole ride, I was stared at by the whole bus (even a blind armadillo, which was pretty strange). I walked through the now familiar set of glass doors, and straight to the front desk. The deer attendant was still there, thankfully. I asked for directions to Jerry's. Luckily, it was only a five minute walk up the street. I then payed for my previous night at the hotel. One night was 120 dollars. Pretty steep, but you also had to consider, that this place was right in the center of the city, and not a complete shit hole. I honestly was surprised that it wasn't more. That didn't stop a substantial chunk of my remaining cash from leaving my wallet. I only had twenty dollars left. Deffinently not enough for another night. I decided to worry about accommodations later. Instead I focused on my current goal, which was getting to the café. I arrived in three minutes flat. It was clear the place was packed, but I spotted Judy and Nick among the crowd. I could always pick people (or in this case animals) out of a crowd. I guess that was just one thing from my training, which stuck with me. I gave them a casual wave, and joined them in line. The line moved at a snail's pace. It didn't help that the mammal in front of us, was a sloth (took the guy about 10 minutes to pronounce caramel macchiato). After about thirty minutes, it was our turn to order. Nick ordered a blueberry smoothie, Judy ordered a carrot juice, and I stuck with a cup of dark roast coffee (no cream, one sugar). The total came to fifteen dollars. I could almost hear my wallet crying out in agony, as I handed my last twenty to the pig cashier. We found a table on the back deck. We spent an hour, just talking about work and our lives (which I, as usual kept pretty vague). Then came up the question of residence. I then just realized that I only had five dollars left in my wallet.

"So where are you going to stay. You can't live in that hotel forever," said Judy.

"Believe me, I know. I'll probably on the streets for the next few days. Until I land a job"

Judy almost spat out her carrot juice "Excuse me?"

"I only have five dollars left, after I bought you guys your drinks"

"Well, why didn't you have us pay for it? You could have just found a cheaper hotel for the night," asked Nick, with an element of concern.

"I have a reputation to uphold. How bad of a first impression would I have made, if I invite you somewhere, and make _you guys_ pay. That's just not my style."

"Even still Oscar, we would have understood," said Judy.

"Well, here is something about me. I _always_ honor my promises, no matter how small."

Judy sat there for a second, pondering what I said. Nick just became absorbed in his smartphone. After a few minutes of silence, Judy spoke up. "You can stay with me," Judy spoke with an earnest expression, plastered on her face.

"I couldn't. A, you barely know me. B, I would be intruding. And C, I sometimes suffer from insomnia."

"You seem like a good person, Oscar. I'm not going to stand by and let you sleep on the streets. You'd get eaten alive, both literally and metaphorically. Besides, I've had to deal with worse, with me having over two hundred siblings."

"Take the offer kid. She generally isn't this nice," Nick said, which earned him a good natured punch in the arm."

"Oh all right, if you insist," I said.

We left the café, and swung by the hotel. There, I grabbed my luggage, and checked out. After a few minute ride on the bus (and more stares), we arrived on a small side street. Right smack dab in the middle of a few shops sat a modernly constructed apartment building. We walked through the double doors and to a set of elevators in the back of the building. Nick pressed a button for the fifth floor, and we made our ascent. The doors slid open revealing a hallway stretching from left two right, doors spaced out, and lining both sides. At the end of the right hall, sat two adjoining doors. Nick stopped at one, produced a key, opened the door, and waved goodbye to Judy. Apparently they lived across from each other, so they could car pool. Judy waved back, and clicked open the door to her apartment. The floorplan was open, and the furnishings were modest, consisting of a grey sectional couch and coffee table, a small wall mounted TV. Some paintings and a few family photos hung on the walls. In the corner sat a desk and chair and a bookshelf. Lastly, there was a glass dinner table, and chairs. All in all, there was a warm atmosphere to the place. She led me to the guest bedroom, adjacent to the bathroom. In the guest room, sat a twin bed, nightstand and lamp, and a small oak dresser. Perfect for a few nights.

"Thank you Judy. This is way up there on the nicest things people have done for me list. Believe me when I say this, that list is _very_ small."

"No worries, Oscar. I don't know why that list is small. You seem very kind, in my eyes."

Kind. That word has escaped me for nearly my entire life. I would never describe myself as that. The things I've done, and see people do, has forever scarred me. Kind? No. I just tried to be good to people when I could. I guess that somewhere, deep within me, I was trying to atone. I brushed off my wave of depressing thoughts, and replied to Judy with a chuckle and a thank you. She said that I could take a shower if I needed, and boy was that the case. I kind of had to hunch over in the shower, but it did the job, well enough. I let the water cascade over me for a few minutes, before stepping out. In the mirror, I caught a glimpse of the scar, by my heart. A bullet wound. That will be a story for another day, I thought to myself, as I pulled on my Pink Floyd t-shirt and sweat pants. I then left the bathroom, wished Judy goodnight and thanked her again. Carefully, I shut the bedroom door, and flicked the light switch off. Before I went to sleep, I caught a glimpse of the city at night. Lights from the skyscrapers and cars, illuminated the night sky and city, in an almost Van Gogh manner. Quite breathtaking in all honesty. Eventually I got tired enough, and collapsed on my bed. A mixture of relief and exhaustion, spread across my body, as I fell asleep.

 **A/N:**

 **Hello readers. I am so sorry for the delay in my writing. Three weeks is far too long for any of you to wait. I had some family matters to attend to (my father moving), and could not even get near my computer. Such a long delay, should not, and will not (hopefully) happen again. With that being said, I leave you this chapter. As always leave a review if you want (they are greatly appreciated). PM me with any ideas on the story or if you have any cool fan art that you want to share. Peace**

 **-Mlg Fedora**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: A Morning Out

 **A/N: This chapter is a place holder. Something to give you guys whilst you wait for 6. Trust me, the action will pick up in a few chapters time. Right now, I just need to get the characters established. Until then, enjoy this chapter (and future ones)**

I've always hated this dream. I have been having the same one for the past four years. It always starts off the same. It starts with me in the driver's seat of a black 1968 Chevelle SS. I am not in control of the car. I am steering it, but it is almost subconscious. It's a dream after all. It's dark outside, but my path is illuminated by the streetlights and lights from windows of New York City. We were in Brooklynn Heights, judging by our surroundings. I say "our", because there is a woman in the passenger seat wearing a blue dress. Brown, bordering on orange hair, dark green eyes. Beautiful Complexation. I can't seem to recall her name. I can feel a small smile emerging on my face, when I look at her. A warm, mixture of joy in my chest. I check in the rear view mirror, and sure enough I am smiling. Even stranger, I look younger. My hair isn't greying, but is the flat black it once was. I'm cleanly shaved, instead of my usual five o'clock shadow. My eyes aren't full of bags (both from lack of sleep, age, and booze). They look almost lively. _Happy._ Strange. I haven't had a genuine feeling of happiness in years. We continue down the street. This is when we began to talk. I am not speaking. The younger I is speaking for me. It's almost as if I am watching a movie.

"I still can't believe that you haven't seen Times Square," I say.

"I just haven't been up that way. I've always stayed in Brooklynn and Staten Island. Even when we commute together to Wall Street, we never see Times Square."

"You could have told me. I have over two months of vacation days built up. We easily could have taken a day off. Packed a lunch. See the sights."

"That would be nice, Oscar. It's never too late you know. We can go this weekend if you like."

"Spending time with you? I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Those words put a smile on her face. We continued down the winding streets, until we were just around the corner from the Manhattan Bridge. Something wasn't right. There were no cars on the bridge. That should have tipped me off right away. I shrugged it off. It was pretty late, after all. We began to cross the bridge. Shit was really starting to get weird. Not a single car in either lane. I could see police car lights at the middle of the bridge. Swat vehicles blocking my path. I slowed my car to a crawl. If the cops wanted to block traffic, Why not park at the end of the bridge. Then it hit me. They wanted me to be here in the center of the bridge. I whirled around to see behind me. Two military APCs blocked my exit. We were trapped.

"Oscar, what's wrong," the woman asked.

Before I could answer, her door was flung open, and she was dragged out of her seat. "Don't you fucking touch her!" I yelled. I reached under me seat to grab my handgun. Just as I grabbed hold of the grip, I was dragged out of my seat as well. I tried to get to my feat, but was clocked in the side of the head with a rifle stock. An Ak12. They started to drag me. These guys had no idea who they were messing with. I wriggled enough to break free. I may have not had a gun on me, but I did have my Kabar. With one fluid motion, I drew my knife and dug the blade into assailant number one's kneecap. I followed up with a backhand to the face. He was down. His partner was visibly surprised by my actions, and dropped his guard for half a second. That was all I needed. I threw an elbow to his face, stunning him. In the span of about two seconds, I had collected my knife from assailant number one's knee, and slashed it across assailant number two's chest. It didn't take long for the rest of the attackers to notice me. One fired a burst of rifle rounds. Only one bullet connected. It barely grazed my knee, but it sent me down to the concrete. I dived for the cover of my car. It wouldn't offer me much, but it would have to do. I grabbed my phone and the M9 Beretta I had tried to grab earlier. The screen read no signal. I cursed under my breath. They must have been jamming me. Shit. The realization hit me that I was on my own. I only had one magazine, so I had to make it count. An intense firefight brewed. Bullets and screams flew through the air. Within a few minutes, I had run out of ammo. I had dispatched around twelve of the attackers. I couldn't fight anymore without ammo. I looked to my left and saw the woman held at gunpoint. I didn't have a clear shot at her attackers, as they were in cover behind one of the APC's Fear was apparent in her eyes. She had never seen me kill before. I hesitated for a few seconds. Why was I feeling guilty? I didn't have time to answer the question, because I was grabbed by around eight people. I wasn't so lucky this time, in escaping. I was force marched to the edge of the bridge. They then forced me to turn and face one of the APC's. The woman was still being held at gunpoint, as a man stepped out of the APC, she was being held by. He was wearing a baggy black leather jacket and t-shirt, a grey tactical scarf and charcoal jeans. His most distinguishing feature was his metal arm. He was holding a hefty, red painted, bull barrel revolver at me. A wave of anger washed over me. This man was Emmet Ogden. He then raised the gun at me. This jolted me awake.

My eyes snapped open. I was drenched in a cold sweat. I threw my sheets off me and dived for my bag, and grabbed a handgun from my gun case. I waved it wildly around the room for a few seconds. I then realized that I was safe and I was dreaming, and dropped the gun to the floor with a thud. Then I did something I rarely did. I started to tear up. I looked at the alarm clock on my nightstand. It was one in the morning. I shook it off, and went to the kitchen. I then stealthily looked through the cupboards, until in found a glass (two sizes two small, but it would do). I then snuck back into my room and looked through my bag. It was there that I found my ¾ full bottle of whiskey. I downed about three small glasses sitting in the corner of the room, before my sadness partially disappeared (enough to go back to sleep).

I woke up to the smell of brewing coffee. The time was six AM. Perfect. I dug through my suitcase, until I found a pair of faded grey jeans, a black Polo shirt, and my grey Converse All Stars. I pocketed my phone, my nearly empty wallet. I opened it to check if more money magically appeared, but instead found a five dollar bill and a key. I remembered that I had found it a few days ago, but hadn't closely examined it yet. It was your typical house key, except for the fact that it was bronze in color. It had the words _The Skyline Gardens_ etched into one side. On the other was the number 99. I confusingly pocketed the key and left my room.

Judy was currently in the process of pouring herself a cup of coffee. She was already in her uniform. Luckily for me, I've never had to wear a uniform in my life. The dangers I put myself in were all in the shadows. Did I ever get any praise for my work, outside the office? Nope. But my work saved countless lives, in an abstract sense. I casually walked up on her, trying to playfully scare her.

"I can hear you," she said.

"What? How?" I asked

"The ears. They are a big help at work."

"No shit," I said with an element of inquisitiveness.

"Yeah. One time, I nabbed a jewel thief. There was this big ring of thefts around Sahara Square, The thing was all the alarms were never triggered according to the report, which was incorrect."

"Why's that"

"I should rephrase. Most weren't triggered. As these guys progressed they got sloppier. Their second to last heist's alarm was triggered, but only for about two tenths of a second. Nobody in the building had enough time to register the sound. They had a pattern of buildings, which took us about a week to crack. Their last target, was a ritzy condo in tundra town. At least it was supposed to be. I was on duty, at the time, about a few yards from another building eight blocks north, when it went down. Nick and I were in patrol, when I heard the alarm being tripped. It only lasted around two seconds. We were the only cops in the area, and the first to respond. All eight of them were arrested that day. It was all over the news for weeks."

"That's pretty cool, Judy."

"Don't make me blush, Oskar. All I did was hear an alarm. It was Nick's idea to be patrolling in that area. He thought the analysts' predictions to be off."

"Don't sell yourself short kid"

"Thanks, Oscar."

"No prob. It's seven o'clock. Now I have never had a "normal" job, but I'm going to assume…"

"Sweet cheese and crackers, Nick's probably still asleep."

Judy bolted to the door, with a drowsy, sloppily dressed looking nick in tow. I heard some yelling. Judy popped back into the door frame.

"I'll see you for lunch later. The mayor wants to talk with you around 11. In the meantime, go get some breakfast. I left a twenty on the counter."

"Thanks, kid."

"No prob."

The door slammed closed. I was on my own. That was good in some ways. I had time to clear my head. I pocketed the twenty, and went into my room. There, I punched the combination into my gun case, letting a satisfying click of the locks escape the grey polymer rectangular prism. I threw on one of the chest holsters, and slid a colt 1911 and two mags into the shiny black leather. I took a quick glance out of my window. It was rainy, and looked cold. Deffinently jacket weather. With that in mind, I slipped on my brown leather jacket and my worn grey Mets baseball cap. I have had both since my early twenties, and they never seemed to fail me. I finished off my outfit, with my brown Ray Ban Club Master shades, and my silver Rolex. That watch had an interesting story to tell. It was a gift from Cherice. She gave one to all of the agents who served more than ten years. I had served over 16, before I left, at the ripe old age of 30. The watch still kept ticking after a decade. Never even had to change the battery. This was because the watch was fitted with a custom battery designed by my father. It was mainly used for field equipment, designed to keep even some of the clunkiest machinery running for decades. Of course they learned to shrink the technology a decade after his death. First thing they put it in? A Rolex Oyster Perpetual Datejust. Cherice thought it would be a good gift for me on the anniversary of my joining (which just so happened to fall on my birthday). Maybe it was because the only reason I was there was because of my father, but I'll get to that eventually. I took the day off, which was something I rarely did regardless. At 5 in the evening, I received a call, saying I needed to be at the office, for an urgent situation briefing. I shrugged it off, and drove to the office. When I showed up on my floor, I was swamped by a surprise birthday party. Cubicles were cleared, light bulbs changed to from fluorescent to a warmer glow. Streamers and banners hung from the ceiling and walls. Everyone from floors 10 to 19 (10 and lower were mostly accounting and on site server management, which I rarely dealt with) were there socializing. As soon as I stepped out of the elevator, Cherice wished me a happy birthday, and gave me the watch. Honestly, that was probably the only time in my life I felt appreciated. Not for my money. Not for my skill set. People were there because they wanted to be around me, not obligated to. Strange. I clipped that watch on my wrist, and walked out of my room, and out of the apartment.

It was rush hour, with cars of all sizes bustling back and forth on the road. I walked a ways up the road until I came to a subway station. I took a quick photo of the tram lines, for future reference. After walking down the stairs, I arrived at a metro card station, which was where I loaded five dollars on to a card. That should have been enough to get me to where I wanted to go. I say this, because the restaurant I wanted to hit, was right by City Hall. Talk about killing two birds with one stone. I walked through the gate, on to the train, and into the corner of one of the cars. I got a lot more looks (and even some phone recordings), but I was too focused on my goal to care. The blur of the passing lights and city eventually subsided to the neatly laid out subway stop. The doors hissed open, and mammals of all sizes stepped out. I was the last to leave. The overwhelming noises of the subway station faded out. For a short moment of time, my shoes hitting the concrete steps were the only noise. That was replaced with the sounds of cars, talking, and general city noise. I checked my phone. Sure enough, I was just around the corner from city hall (which I guessed was the large building to my left. I decided to take a right down the street. One of the side streets (which was jam packed with vendors, restaurants, and little shops), was where I turned on. I saw a small corner café about twenty yards from me, which looked perfect. A news stand sat just outside, which I stopped at to pick up a copy of _The Atla Vista Connection_. It seemed to be a local publication, with news ranging from burrow to global. I got eighteen dollars in change. With paper in hand, I walked through the doors of the café. I could feel dozens of eyes on me as I walked up to the counter, occupied by a female Ocelot, and ordered.

"Small dark roast, and a raisin bagel, please."

"S-sure. Anything else?"

"Nope"

"Hey, why is _he_ allowed in here," I heard a male donkey yell from the crowd.

"Excuse me?" I replied.

"This is an equal opportunity business. Everybody is allowed, regardless of species," the clerk said.

"I don't give a shit."

"You don't have too. If you have a problem, take it up with management or leave."

The donkey grunted, "Fine, but I am taking my family, and my money, elsewhere. Good day,"

With that, the donkey, his wife, and twelve children walked out of the quaint corner café.

"What an ass," I said.

"You could say, he made an **_ass_** of himself," she said

"Well his decision was pretty… ** _as_** **inine**." That caused me and her to laugh for a few seconds.

"You're order totals to 12.50, by the way."

I handed her my twenty, and gave her my name. Whilst the coffee was being brewed, I found a table in the corner. It was sat by a full arch window, and a speaker, which was humming away with the sound of Jazz. The window gave me the view of the busy street. Some eyes were still on me, but not nearly as much as before. I was just about to open my paper, when I heard my name called. Resting on the counter, was a bagel and my coffee. I swiped a sugar packet from one of the containers on my way back to my table. Now I could read in peace. The front page, obviously was about my press conference. I didn't need to read it, but I caught words like "Seemingly dangerous alien proved not dangerous to the public" "some outrage over legal loophole" and "Scientists disprove fears of diseases, after test of blood on tranquilizer dart." They used the blood on the dart. Smart bastards. I went to take a sip of my coffee. These guys were using a quality blend of beans. Not bad. I was expecting the coffee to taste like complete shit. I'm not saying cruddy work coffee pot shit. You know what I mean. The kind that "Jeff, the intern, who clearly was raised on to-go coffee and never touched a proper coffee pot" breed of shit. **I mean brewed in a fucking sewer shit**. I was pleasantly surprised. I sat there at that table for a good half an hour. The inhabitants of this city bustled around outside my window. I tried not to stay by windows for very long. Good place for sniper to pick me off. I've always had a subconscious fear of my surroundings. Not a crippling fear, more of a situational awareness. Guess that came from my job. I sat there for about ten more minutes, polishing off my bagel. As I was leaving, I dropped two ones and my quarters into the tip jar. The Ocelot waved goodbye, which I returned.

Surprise surprise, it was still raining. I didn't care. I've been in worse conditions. I checked my watch. It was 10:15. I had time to kill until my meeting with the mayor, so I decided to drift around the shops for a few hours. While walking down the streets for a couple minutes, I noticed a staircase leading down into a small shop. The small wooden sign above the doorway read _Another Era: Memorabilia and Classic Vinyl._ My kind of place. The metal door let out a small creek, as I walked through the door. The whole place was one large room and a counter. Boy did they optimize the space. Rows of record boxes on low tables sat in the corner, with a few turntables. Classic records like Yes's 90125 and Rolling Stones' Hot rocks adorned the walls. In the left hand corner sat a few rows of shelves stacked to the brim with comic books both classic and new. A few posters hung on the walls. The walls themselves were interesting, as they were just solid red brick. Some more shelves tables were spread out across the room, packed with memorabilia ranging from bobble heads to random antiques like old post cards and destination specific coffee mugs. Sitting behind the basic metal counter, feet resting on the counter, was a porcupine wearing faded jeans, a tattered flannel shirt, and an _Alien Ware_ baseball cap. The employee was engrossed in an issue of _Game Informer_. Totally a hipster. I walked past him to one of the postcard racks. A shot of the city skyline was one. Perfect. Plus they only cost a quarter. With post card in hand, I went to the counter.

"Howdy," I greeted

"Hey. What's going on" The last letter of on lingered for a few seconds, as he was trying to process what I was.

"Hello?"

"Yo Jerry, you got to see this man."

I heard the sound of large foot falls as a rhinoceros in a 2112 t-shirt and khakis stepped through the door. "What is so damn important that you had to interrupt my Na-a- oh what the hell."

"Exactly what I said! Dude, of all the people to walk into our shop, it's him."

"I'm still here, and I'm not deaf."

"Shit, sorry man. It's just it's not every day, you get to see an alien. Jerry over here, didn't even believe aliens were real," said the porcupine.

"I never said that, Carl. I just said, it was _highly implausible."_

"Same thing," said Carl.

"So, you are really an alien," said Jeff.

"I guess."

"Well I hope I'm not being too presumptuous, but we hold a Dungeons and Dragons game/Sci-Fi discussion…"

"And you want me to come."

"Exactly," interjected Carl.

"I don't have anything else planned. I'd be glad to show up."

"Radical dude! See you Friday."

"Yep. Oh, what about the card."

"Keep it man, on the house"

"Thanks"

With that being said, I left the basement. Glancing back at my watch, I realized the time was 10:40. Probably time to leave. I could see city hall from the street, and could tell, that if I walked at a brisk pace, I'd arrive there at around 10:50. Ten minutes early. Perfect. My walk blended into a blur off mammals either recording me, moving out of the way, or ducking into shops. Most however, didn't notice or care, which was good. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself. The tall, glass structure entered my field of view, in a matter of minutes. With a push of the revolving door, I was enveloped into the chaos of this office. Animals of all sizes bustled back and forth, between offices and elevators. I walked over to the front desk and checked myself in, without incident. Strange. I guess I had become accustomed to the stares. The sloth receptionist told me (very slowly). That the mayor was waiting for me on the top floor. I thanked her and walked over to the elevator. Cheesy elevator music blasted at full volume, as I made my journey to the top. When the elevator doors inevitably dinged open. I was met by two wolf security officers, in full combat gear. I could tell they were mercs, by the way they constructed themselves. Sloppy, and that's coming from a hired gun. I could tell these guys were new. Not even a pat down. One produced a metal detector, and waved it against my jacket, and any other place I could conceal a weapon. What they didn't know, was that my jacket was lined with resistant materials. It was bulkier, but it allowed me to get a gun closer to… forget it. Anyways, after the security check, I was cleared to enter the office. After passing through a fogged glass door, I was met with a typical conference room. Its inhabitants were not as typical. Security guards lined the perimeter of the room. At the head of the table, sat a lion in a business suit (who I was assuming was the mayor) Flanking him was one government agent, a female winter fox, in a pantsuit. I was able to make out the outline of a Glock and a badge on her hip. Federal Bauer of Investigation. Shit.

"Hello Mr. Donnelly. I'm Mayor Leodore Lionheart, and this is Director Jannice Winter, of the FBI. We have some things to discuss," said the Lion.

"And what would that be."

"You're skill set, mostly, and the reason we haven't thrown you in the deepest, darkest hole available," said the fox.

I pulled one of the chairs at the end of the table out and took a seat.

"Let's get this over with," I said.

 **A/N: Hey everyone, Fedora here. That was chapter five. Sorry for the wait. Had some more family issues. Soaked up a lot of my week. This chapter was supposed to be released a week earlier. Comments always help and motivate me. If you have any ideas or fan art, feel free to PM me. Until next time….. PEACE.**

 **-Mlg Fedora**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Ultimatum

 _Ultimatum ( . )_

 _Noun_

 _A final demand or statement of terms, the rejection of which will result in retaliation or a breakdown of relations._

My mind was in a different place. Flashes of my old life ran at an almost constant pace. Like a broken film. Very jump cutty. One moment I was walking home from school on the semi busy streets of Queens, New York the year. The younger I (10 to be precise) was wearing my green canvas jacket, jeans and a brown and red ski cap with my black hair peaking out. For the 90s, I was pretty stylish. We got out early due to the roads being very icy. The dangerous road conditions caused a truck to collide with a power line, cutting off power to the school. Passing the beige corner store, where the eighth graders went to buy booze and cigarettes from Dave, the homeless guy, I rounded onto my street. Some of my friends were already basking in the day off, with snowballs and the sounds of bike tires colliding with slush filling the air. My dad's car was usually home by now. Strange. Ever since he got laid off, he was different. The energetic man, who would sweep his wife off her feet, after crossing the threshold of our yellow town house, was replaced by a broken, disheveled man. The last few nights, he'd come home in tears, nearly passing out on the front steps. Crumpled lab coat, deep bags under his eyes, you name it. Money had been pretty tight, which I had assumed had been stressing him out. I'd heard from my mother that he was a brilliant scientist. However, the job market for a part quantum physicist part Biological Engineer, was very small at the time of 1992. I entered my house. This was when things got very jumpy. The next thing I knew I was looking down the stairs, to see my mother standing at the door. The clock on the plaster wall read 11:45. Snow was drifting gently to the road, outside, and the street lights were painting an orange glow. On the doorstep stood two men in black business suits. I could make out words like "Tragic accident" and "Financially compensated". A blur of events flew through my head. A funeral, the money running out, me being picked up by the police, for a reason that now escapes me. The cutting stopped at a 13 year old me in a grey interrogation room. I wasn't alone. There was a woman. Her face seemed familiar. A younger Cherice. She was in her thirties, brown hair just starting to fade. Her eyes remained vibrant, and lacked the bags and partial glassiness from both stress and lack of sleep. Words flashed through my brain when I saw here. "Your willingness to participate", "Benefit both science and your country" "Your father would be proud".

"Mr. Donnelly," she asked. I stared at her with an expression of bewilderment.

"Mr. Donnelly," she repeated again, with a firm tone. The last word rang out with an echo. In the blink of an eye, my surroundings changed. The grey walls turned to a mix of steel and windows, giving view of a city, obscured by armed mercenaries. Red clothing with black combat armor and AK-12 assault rifles. I seemed to have forgotten to mention that they all were either wolves, or a few panthers. A stone cold look was one every one of their faces. I was sitting at the far end of a glass oval shaped, conference table. Of the twelve chairs surrounding it, only three were occupied. One by a large, male lion, I recognized as the Armani suit wearing, Mayor Lionheart. The other seat, to the mayors left, was being used by a female artic fox in a navy blue pantsuit. Janice Winter. Director of the FBI, which I assumed led to her abuse of coffee. That was clear in her semi tired looking green eyes, and the drumming of here paws on the table.

"Are you okay, Mr. Donnelly," Janice asked

"Excuse me," I replied half dazed.

"You seem a little out of it"

"I just didn't sleep well. I'm fine."

"Whatever you say."

"Please continue"

"We were just about to explain to you what our plans with you are."

"And what would those be exactly," I responded with an extra note of smart-assedness.

"Let's face it Oscar, we need you," said the mayor.

"Why, whatever do you mean," I replied sarcastically again.

"You've run into our police force first hand. What was your impression," said Janice, flatly.

"Well, there's the fact that I was able to breeze through over ten of them in a few minutes. That, clearly shows lack of training."

"What if I were to tell you that most of our higher up agents, only have slightly higher skill level."

"I'd say you're screwed if you ever run into someone like me again."

The mayor chimed in "That's exactly it. We never have _had_ to deal with mammals like you before. Your entire skill set is new to all of the Zoonited states. Do you have _any_ idea how many murders we get in this state per year? Let me tell you, it's pretty fucking low!"

"Okay, dial it back Leo. What we are trying to get to, is that you are a very dangerous individual. However, that is something we need very desperately."

"I don't like where this is going…"

"This city is like an egg resting on an upturned nail, due to some recent events. On its own, with no interference, nothing bad happens. As soon as something or someone even slightly moves it, the whole thing comes crashing down, and leaves a big mess. A mess that unfortunately the mayor and I have to clean up. If we could stop someone bad from doing something worse, that would save us a pain in the ass."

"And you need me because…"

"Oh, don't play dumb, Oscar. What you do for a living is pretty obvious. There are a few mammals, on a very particular list that need to be crossed off. Permanently"

"What makes you think I _want_ to do what I do? You have no idea what my motivations are."

"We have a pretty good idea. Money. It's what drives all of us."

"It's not that simple. Sure, money helps. That's all it is to you people, or I should say _mammals_. When you're the one pulling the trigger…"

"I'm going to stop you there. I get where you are coming from. Don't forget what we said about the darkest hole. With a snap of my fucking fingers, I could erase your entire existence. Nobody would bat an eye," chimed in the mayor.

"You want to intimidate me? Try this on for size. Just from sitting in this room, I can tell the AC duct is exactly 12 by 12. Having to crawl through them before, leads me to believe that they run out of this room and most likely connect to the elevator shaft, to keep air fresh. Two of the four bolts holding the grate in place are loose. Two bullets would crack the damn thing wide open. In order to reach it, I'd need a distraction. One of the concussion grenades and a handgun on the vest of the merc, who's standing just a little too close, to my right would do the trick nicely. I'd be gone before you could even blink." It was clear my words left a mark, as the two guards on my left, took a few steps back, and both Janice and the mayor's eyes widened in shock.

"You are a feisty one. What would it take to sway you?"

"Hmm let me think. A new car? No that's too trivial. I know! Try, two hundred grand delivered to me, in cash, in advance. My time, and place. Upon completion of the job, four hundred thousand dollars are to be transferred to a specified bank account, with a hundred grand, per target bonus."

"Anything else," the mayor asked, with a notable tone of annoyance in his voice.

"Actually there is. After the job is done, I'll look suspicious living comfortably, without a day job. I give you a call, and you give me a recommendation. No questions asked."

"Fine."

"Okay then. I think we are done here." I got up to walk towards the door. I was stopped by Janice beginning to speak.

"Before you go, you should know one thing. If you break our agreement or go public, your body will be at the bottom of a lake by sundown."

Without breaking my stride, I said "This ain't my first rodeo." It was clear they had no idea what a rodeo was, but I didn't care. 25% of looking badass is one liners. I stepped through the door, and caught a few glances from the guards, as I walked down the hall, and stepped into the elevator. I instinctively started humming _Love in an Elevator_ by Aerosmith, as I made my descent. I guess some people got wind of me being here. A few photographs. Shit. People would want to know what the hell went down. I smiled but tried to get out of there as fast as I could. Walking through the revolving doors again, I flicked my ray bans open. The light was too bright. Glancing at my watch told me that it was quarter past 11. Judy and Nick were probably wondering where I was. We never came up with a meeting point for lunch. No problem. I'd just head back to Judy's and pray either her or Nick had a landline. With a new goal, I walked back to the train station.

The city sounds faded out, and for a brief moment, there was silence. Thank god. I had a few seconds to get my head straight. Did I really just agree to a contract? I hadn't taken one from the agency in a little under five years, and haven't contracted out in six. I wasn't worried about the job. I had pulled of much more difficult (try hitting a moving target, with a bolt-action sniper rifle, whilst in a moving helicopter in downtown Chicago). The whole reason I left was conflicting morals, and a few other reasons, I don't exactly want to discuss right now. It took a lot, and I mean **a lot** , to get out of the agency. No. I can't think like that. What's done is done. Best think about it after the trigger is pulled. Can't get gun-shy. Not yet.

I was met again with the noise, more cramped this time. The train pulled up right on schedule, thank god. Without a word I slid my card into the reader, paid the amount, and took a seat. I dug through my pockets and found my Bluetooth headphones. I dug through my music app, until I came across one of my favorites. Synchronicity II, by The Police. No puns. No noise. Just me, my seat, and a view of the window. The fluorescent lights illuminating the track blurred into a single line. Sadly, the song ended, a few seconds before I reached my stop. Headphones still in, I left the train, and proceeded out of the station, and up the block. I arrived at the building pretty quickly. Luckily, I memorize nearly everything I see (part of being successful in my line of work) and remembered the floor and room number of Judy and Nick. After enduring the same elevator music, I arrived on the floor. Where did Judy keep her key? That wasn't something I could us my top notch analytical and people reading skills for. I reached for the left side of the lenses of my ray bans, until I felt the catch of a switch. I clicked it. Immediately, my whole field vison had a blue ish tint. This was my Search, Recover, Utilize, Device, or S.R.U.D for short. Standard issue for class fives only. A line of red text flashed on my right lense. Enter vocal command. "Cassondra," I said, flatly. "Welcome back, agent number 234. Oscar James Donnelly. Please enter search command." "House Keys." With a little flash on the lense, several yellow key shaped figures, popped up within my field of vision. The closest was under the door mat. Figured a cop would hide her keys in a less obvious place. The same couldn't be said for Nick. His spare keys, were nowhere in sight. I tested the keys under the mat, and sure enough, they worked. The door clicked open, and I was back in the apartment. I clicked off the sunglasses, and slid them into my jacket pocket. I could easily spot the landline, on an end table. Now I needed a number. I walked around the house, looking for a trace of their job. Luckily, I found a business card stuck to the fridge. It had a police shield on it and a telephone number. Perfect. I picked up the landline, and dialed. I got connected within a few seconds.

"ZPD front desk, this is Clawhauser, how may I help you."

"Hi, this is Oscar Donnelly."

"Oscar, how's Zootopia treating you?"

"Okay. I can't get over the constant gawking and photo taking."

"Don't worry about it. This whole media fiasco should fade away in a few weeks. Some new scandal, controversy, or crime will pop up. It always does."

"Thanks Clawhauser."

"No problem. Now I'm going to assume you didn't call for small talk."

"Yeah. Judy, nick, and I had lunch plans. Only problem is, I don't know where. They had to rush off this morning, and I barely got a goodbye out of them."

"Let me guess. You want me to contact them, to see what is up."

"Exactly."

"Let me see what I can do." A few minutes passed. I could hear some conversation over something in the background. Radio? The conversation ended with something being set down. Clawhauser began to speak again.

"They said they want to meet you on Fourth Street. There's a small restaurant there. It should be…"

"A few hundred yards from the apartment."

"Look at you, already knowing your way around."

"Oh, I just have a map on my phone. I can memorize stuff pretty well. Part of my job."

"What exactly was your job, Oscar?"

"Military contractor. I thought that's what I wrote down on the sheet."

"No, I mean what do you really do? You have extremely high pattern memorization skills. Extensive firearms training and high situational awareness. We got direct orders from the mayor to not search the stuff in your hotel room. Specifically a carbon fiber case, long enough to hold a multitude of guns. Don't even get me started what we found in your toxology report and neurological scan. Stuff we haven't ever seen before. It's pretty damn clear that you're not a contractor."

"Does Judy and Nick know?"

"Not yet."

"Keep it that way. Please. They are some of the few individuals, which appear to give a damn about me. That list has stayed stagnant for a very long time"

With that, I hung up the phone with a click. I had lunch plans to worry about. The same damn elevator music played. It made me want to draw my gun and shoot the speakers. The doors slid open, and in a few seconds, I was out of the lobby, and on the street again. I could see the restaurant, partially obscured by a street corner, from the front door. The walk was quick. Quiet. Thank god. I needed some quiet every once in a while. After rounding the corner, I could see some outdoor seating. There was a small fenced in area, and a few metal tables, all of them occupied Immediately, I got some stares, but I played them no mind. I could plainly see two familiar mammals, a bunny and a fox, clad in navy police uniforms. The gate squeaked open, as I made my way over to them. There was three seats, with the one facing the door remaining. The chair was a little small, but I made due.

"So, how was your day today," Judy asked.

"Fine."

"That's it? Just fine? Come on, tell us the details. I'm _dying_ to know," Nick joked.

"I met the mayor, if you must know. We talked about politics."

"Sounds fun," Nick said, sarcastically.

"Oh believe me, it was pretty interesting."

"What else did you do? You were in the city for a few hours before the meeting."

"I kind of just walked around. Nothing really major happened today," I lied. "How was your day?"

"It was the same old same old. Busted some mammal selling cat-nip. After that got taken care of, we drove around for a few hours, wrote some tickets, until we got to our lunch break. Which leads us here."

"Cat-nip. You've got to be joking?"

"Not even remotely. The idiot didn't even have the foresight to have his car parked by his corner. He made multiple trips back and forth, until we passed by right during one of his rotations. The stuff can be legally sold, and he said he had a license," Nick said.

"Well, did he?"

"Nope, His so called license, was a poorly photocopied sheet of paper, with an alias. The problem was, he was carrying his driver's license with him. A simple comparison later, and the dumbass was at the precinct in paw cuffs."

"Sounds pretty eventful to me."

"This kind of stuff happens pretty often, but normally we have to do a little more work," said Judy.

Just as Judy finished speaking, a kangaroo, who was clearly our waiter, stepped through the glass doors. When she got to my table, I realized that a menu had been sitting in front of me the whole time. I randomly chose a chicken Panini off the menu. For a drink I had a glass of scotch. Neat. The best way to have it, in my personal opinion. Judy ordered a salad, and nick ordered the same as me, minus the scotch. That amount of alcohol would probably kill him. Conversation topics varied, from Judy's family, whose careers varied from neuro surgeon, to professor of agriculture at a local college to Nicks colorful past as a Con artist. The conversation eventually drifted to housing, which was when I decided to tell them about the key.

"So you just woke up in the middle of the highway, with that key," Judy asked surprised.

"Yep"

"Sounds like someone had one hell of a night," Nick said under his breath.

"And you were going to tell us about this when?"

"I didn't even know what the key was. Besides, it's the only lead I have on this mystery person. He or she executed multiple perfect headshots at an extremely long range. That takes training."

"You think that mammal…"

"May be where ever that key is."

"I don't know if you know this Oscar, but The Skyline Gardens, is one of the nicest apartment complexes in all of Zootopia. The mammals who live there have a lot of extra money," Nick said.

"How do you know about the amounts of money they have," I asked

"I ran a long con there a few years back. Kind of like those Nigerian prince scams, but on a bigger level."

"Sounds illegal," Judy said.

"Not necessarily. That's the power of legal loopholes. What I'm trying to get at is, whoever owns that key, has a lot of resources at his or her disposal"

"They could disappear anytime," I said.

"Exactly."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go," Judy said.

"Hold on, Carrots. If he or she is still there, he might be dangerous. If we need to call backup…"

"The person behind the gun, saved my life Nick. Besides, if stuff gets out of hand, I'll take care of it."

"We're cops, Oscar. It's kind of our job to protect the populace. If whoever is there is dangerous, we need to take that individual down,"

"I understand. The longer we wait, the more likely we are going to miss that person."

"You're right. Let's hit the road."

I downed the last of my scotch in one swig, as we walked to the police cruiser. I've never sat in the back of one before (thank god), but it would have to do. As the door shut, I heard the horsepower-heavy engine gunning up. All I could hope, is that we would make it in time.

 **Thanks for reading. It seems every chapter there is a delay. For that I apologize. It's nearly been a month, and That Is unacceptable. In all fairness, I've been visiting my father for the remainder of summer break. It's the only time I get to see him out of the year, so I figured I'd put my laptop down. As always leave a comment. They really keep me motivated to write this story for you all. I would like to take some time to thank the following. Zenith88, ADutchMarine, MoonstarTehKitten, and the countless others who have commented on my work. It really means a lot. As always…..Peace.**

 **-Mlg Fedora**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: A New Life (And the Musings of a Professional Killer)

The city rushed by in a blur of grey and color. The ride was fairly quite save the sound of the turbo charged engine, rain pattering on the windshield, and _I Wanna Be Sedated_ , humming through the speakers. Two familiar figures sat in the front. A fox and a rabbit.

"The Ramones, Road to Ruin, released in 1978." I instinctively said under my breath.

"What's that," asked Judy.

"The song. My dad always listened to music from that era. He was the one who got me to listen to songs like this."

"You never told us about your father," said nick.

"He was brilliant in his field. Guy was way ahead of his time. Kind of eccentric when it came to his work. The technology he pioneered would have gotten him a Nobel prize, if it wasn't top secret."

"What exactly was his field?"

"He kind of dabbled in everything. Molecular physics, Cellular Regeneration, Alternate Realities, and the works. He'd always come home with some new gadget that he created in his lab. He could make something with any materials presented to him."

"He sounds pretty cool."

"He was. Shame he died to young."

That silenced the car for the rest of the ride. As the song died out, an elegant apartment complex, crammed in between a multitude of other buildings came into my field of vision. I could make out a neat sign in cursive. The text: **_Skyline Gardens_** **.** We parked the car and entered the lobby. Functionally decorated. No complaints from me. The elevator sat at the end of a marble hallway. Once inside. I could see a key for the floors. It ran up to 30, unit 99 sitting at floor 29. With a press of the button, we began our ascent. _Girl Fromm_ _Ipanema_ played over the speaker. The doors dinged open and we could see a set of three doors. We quietly walked to 99. The rabbit and fox drew there tranq pistols, which caused me to scoff under my breath. The sound of the key sliding into the lock could be heard. Then the door clicked open. We were met with a modernly furnished, multi-level apartment. Brick accent walls, collided with stainless steel kitchen appliances and oak wood floor. Multiple large windows cast a view of the city's skyline. Then I noticed the figure. He (or she) was clad in a black trench coat, jeans, leather gloves, and combat gear (black plate carrier with a polymer pistol holster). The figure was also wearing a generation one scout helmet **(similar to the ones from the halo games to give you an idea of appearance)** and a teleportation gauntlet. Strange. That was all retired agency tech.

"Howdy. Glad you could finally join us Mr. Donnelly," said a distorted voice. Must have been the helmet. The minute he spoke, Judy and nick, raised their side arms.

I cringed at the name. "Hello to you as well. And if I may ask, who exactly are you?"

"Oh, you'll know me soon enough. All you need to know, is that I am here to protect you."

"Protect me from what?"

"Oh you really don't know do you. Somethings coming. The readings in this area are off the charts."

"What readings? What is coming?"

"Not what, but whom. The minute I detected the portal firing up, I got to a safe vantage point. When I saw you being thrown through, I could see the others. Let's just say I was the one who took care of your little welcoming party."

"Welcoming party? There were more of you?" Judy interjected.

"He didn't tell you? Funny. I saw your little charade in the news. Honorable government agent? Thrown here? They were going to fucking execute you in the middle of a goddamn highway, and I stopped it."

"Who's they, Oskar," Nick asked.

"Let's just say they are polar opposites of my agency. They have no moral compass, and will kill anywhere, at any time. It was my job to stop them."

"Any who, back to the point. You are in grave danger. Those people are coming back. I'll be watching from the shadows."

"Who do you work for? I can tell from your tech it has to be pretty advanced."

"That's not for me to say. If we deem it necessary for you to meet the rest of us, you will see us. Until then, this place is yours."

"What?"

"The apartment. It belongs to you now."

"Who say's you get to leave," said nick, while gesturing to his badge.

"Oh, look at mister tough guy. Yeah no. I'm going to have to take a rain check. Have fun."

With that, he made a mad dash for the window. As Judy went to stop him, He disappeared into a blur of blue. Another flash, and the figure was standing on the rooftop. He gave a little wave, and disappeared again.

"What are you going to do now, Oskar. He's gone," asked nick.

"I don't know yet. Maybe start a new life."

"Anything else," Judy asked.

"Yeah. We wait."

 **Two Months Later**

Cracks of sunlight peeked through the blinds partially illuminating the dark bedroom. It was almost peaceful, until the alarm clock went off. The incessant beeping cued the shutters to open. The light almost blinded me, if I hadn't been buried under a pile of grey covers. I groaned. Back to work today. I rolled out of my bed, catching a glimpse of the city I had been calling home for the past few months. The few groggy steps to the bathroom went on for an eternity. When oak faded to tile, I knew I had made it. I went through my morning routine, which involved an ice cold shower, to shake off the remaining shackles of sleep. I caught a glimpse of me on the way out of the bath room. After drying off, I walked over to my closet, and dug through my pile of clothes. I eventually found a brown tweed jacket and a grey turtleneck. Further digging produced a pair of blue jeans and my converse shoes. On my way out the bedroom door, I grabbed my Rolex and my sunglasses. I could never forget those. I walked down a short spiral stair case, blended into the brick, and found myself in my kitchen. On the granite countertop rested a small remote, which I used to click on my Stereo system. Big Me by the Foo Fighters hummed through the surround sound speakers. With a press of a button on the nearby Keurig, the essential morning nectar flowed into the pre prepared coffee cup. I checked my watch. Five O'clock. I had time. The coffee was done brewing, so I poured a packet of sugar into it, and walked into my living room. The large windows allowed an unobstructed view of the city. Today was just another day. I took a few sips of coffee. After finishing the coffee, and feeling awake, I checked my phone. The weather was going to be clear today. Nice. The time was now 5:15. I should have been going. On my way out the door, I grabbed my leather briefcase and my car keys. The steel door handle clicked open, and I was in the hallway. A few minutes of walking through the building, and a short elevator ride later, I was on street level. My car was just up the street. It had been long enough for the media to die down. Did I still get a few glances? Sure, but I didn't think that would ever go away. I spotted my car. It was this universes version of a black 1976 Chevelle SS. I would never drive anything else. The door opened with a satisfying Ker-chunk, and I took a seat. The engines roared to life, and I began my journey. This car was the first thing I bought with the two-hundred grand bonus. Pretty sweet if you ask me. The city faded from skyline to trees in a matter of minutes. My destination was pretty far out into the evergreen district. It had a very similar climate to a mix of New Hampshire and Maine, which was fine by me. I slowly began to speed up, with the speedometer rising at a steady pace. Pretty soon, I was pushing 90. Thank god there was no traffic. Then again, the reason I always woke up this early was to be able to drive like a maniac. With one hand on the wheel, I dug through my glove compartment, until I found what I was looking for. A single Phillips studio quality tape. With a small push, the motorized wheels caught the tape, pulling it into the bowls of the stereo system. The beginning of Urgent by Foreigner, blasted through the speakers, as I sped down the deserted highway. I did the same thing every morning, with minor changes to the route. It was what kept me out of routine. Routine gets you killed. Driving through a valley whilst the sun is rising has to be one of the most peaceful things I've seen in my life time. Then again, there never was a lot of peace to begin with. The drive continued, with the songs from decades past playing. Then I saw the building. It was the university, which was my occupation for the past month and a half. How I got a job there is beyond me. It took a lot of prying (and some bribery), but I was able to score a teaching role. They had this program, where you could pitch a class idea, and there was a small possibility it would be accepted. They only did it every four years, and wouldn't you know that it fell right when I arrived. Well they loved my idea. Human History. It would act as an extra class, for history credits. I was just glad to have a stable occupation, other than what I did on the side. I pulled into the same parking space, I always did. I grabbed my bag, and entered through the double glass doors, marked with the school name (Evergreen University), and my name (Professor Donnelly). I was always greeted by the same panther security guard. Then I got to my office. It was pretty standard: Bookcases, a cherry wood desk, I even had one of those big ass globe things sitting in the corner. I plopped down in the leather chair. I had a good forty minutes until the lecture started. I decided to check my email. One new message. J. Winter.

 _Dear, Mr. Donnelly_

 _Your target is James Mcbear, a polar bear in tundra town. He will be on the north bridge at 10 PM sharp, to negotiate a deal, with the local gangs. Kill all of them. Leave no witnesses. We can deal with evidence, and paint it to look like a gang shootout. Upon completion, 150,000 dollars will be transferred into a specified bank account._

 _J.W._

As I finished reading the email, my half hour timer went off on my phone. Time to get to work.

Preparation in the smaller sized lecture hall didn't take very long. I pulled up my presentation on the MacBook. Slowly, students if all species' began to flock in. Within, another ten minutes all the seats filled up. My class was pretty popular.

"Good morning everyone, for those of you who don't know me, my name is Professor Donnelly, but those who have been here long enough know I prefer Oscar. Today, we are going to delve into the depths of Human Civilization, its similarity's, and its difference's. First off, can anyone tell me what Human Nature is?" A few paws shot up. I chose a panther sitting in the back row.

"Psychological traits and feelings shared by humankind," he said.

"Good. Somebody's been paying attention. It's what makes Human's Humans. Our urges, our happiness, our deep rooted anger, and the will to blame others. All of these things play a role in the culture of this race. Take violent crime here. Pretty much nonexistent right. Not exactly the case in our world. In some countries, people sleep with guns under their pillows. Why? Because they need to feel safe, from the atrocities committed at their doorstep. That is something that all races, not just humanity, desire in some form or another. Now you may think you are living on the edge. You're in college. The world seems pretty damn chaotic. You want to leave, but deep down, you know there is a part of you that craves the schedules, the rules. You don't know how bad it can get, which is something else I want to delve into." I clicked a button on my laptop "Perspective. We all see things differently, but let's face it. A lot of our opinions are grandfathered in. This is why I want to convey a drastically new world, both with strife and peace. This will allow you to form new ideas and opinions not only on my world, but your own. So, let's get started."

My watch read six o'clock. Good. I had made it through another work day. Time to hit the bar. After all, it was Friday night. I grabbed my briefcase, and left the building. The traffic had picked up a little bit, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. By the time, I had gotten back into town, and found my usual bar, the time read 7:30. I had time for a few drinks. The neon sign read Old Broadway Bar. This place was after all, nestled in an old theater district. The door dinged open, as I stepped into the building. The décor was very reminiscent of an English pub. At this point, I didn't care. This was one of the few places that carried Dalmore 18, which was my holdout scotch. I could hear some arguing. Three polar bears, towering over the kangaroo behind the bar.

"Listen Vinny, we told you to pay up three weeks ago. If you want protection…"

"I don't need protection. You guys are bleeding me dry here." Shit. That was Vinny. War Veteran and a damn good bartender. One of the few mammals I counted as a friend here.

"What the fuck is going on here, gentleman," I said, with my old New York accent peeking through. That would only ever happen when I was really pissed.

"None of your damn business," said the polar bear in the middle.

"Oh, believe me, it does," I said, while lifting up my jacket to reveal the handgun. "Now, I'll give you twelve seconds to get the hell out of here, before I paint the walls with the little brain matter you have in your thick skulls"

That got them moving. In fact, they couldn't get out of the place fast enough. I just sighed and took a seat at the bar.

"You good, man," I asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Those damn punks think there hot shit, just because their dad's Mcbear. I don't care anymore. What you did, hopefully scared them off. Thanks."

"Anytime, and if they still give you shit, you know who to call."

"Thanks. What can I get you? Wait, who am I kidding? Dalmore 18 right? On the house for what you did."

I thanked him, and sat there in the near silence, save for the hum of the radio, and the ice machine. I probably polished off three drinks before I decided to cut myself off. I got up to leave, when Vinny stopped me.

"Where are you off to?"

"Phycology appointment."

"At 8:30 at night after three glasses of whiskey?"

"Hey, what can I say? It's the only way to make the guy's questions tolerable."

"Amen to that. You have a good night."

"You too."

I needed to get to tundra town pretty quickly, as I'd need at least an hour to set up. The car sped up the road, and then it was gone.

One Hour Later- Tundra Town

The polar bear on the left was the first to fall. I could see him drop in the scope of my draganouv SVU. I fired in a rapid secession from the rooftop, taking down around five guards. Luckily my zip line held, when I collided with the bridge. The wolf directly in front of me when for his gun, but I grabbed his arm, bringing it down in a snapping motion, and finishing him off with a burst of my MP7. More came at me, and more dropped to the floor following bursts of rifle fire, and throwing knifes to the chest. Then came the last target. Mcbear. He was making a break for it. Not on my watch. With the last shot in my Sniper Rifle's clip, I took out his leg. I casually walked over, drew my handgun, and fired a three shot group. No hesitation. No stopping to think. I caught a glimpse of myself in the limos window. Full combat gear, brown leather jacket, and a mark 6 stealth helmet, which resembled a more form fitting gas mask, with glowing red eyes. Then my phone rang.

"Oscar, is that you," said the familiar voice of Judy.

"Yeah," I said, putting on a tired voice "What's up."

"You said you worked in violent crimes while you lived in earth right."

"Something like that," I said while looking at my surroundings

"Well, this is highly unusual, but we need your help. We have a death up on twelfth ave, which we are debating between murder and suicide. It's unusual to bring civilians onto something like this, but we really need your help. Nobody can tell what really happened. Let's just say the circumstances are suspicious"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean nick is freaking out about it. He said it was one of his friends from the streets we are trying to rule out gang violence, but we just don't know."

"Okay, I'm on my way." With that being said, I threw my gear into my bag, and sped off back towards the city."

 **A/N: Thank you guys for reading. Schools been very difficult lately, and has been bleeding me dry. Plus I am part of a traveling soccer group so that takes up some time. For this I apologize. As always leave a review if you want (they really help) and PM with questions or concerns. Peace!**

 **-Mlg Fedora**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Strange Occurrences

I could see the red and blue lights flashing, reflecting off the brick walls of the housing projects. Yellow reflective tape, sectioned off a part of the front of the building. Then I saw the crime scene. The corpse of a grey wolf, indented into the roof of a parked car, was surrounded by cash. Strange, but I'd seen stranger.

"What do we have here," I said to the closest officer, a rhino.

"None of your damn business."

"Hey, Judy called me here…" The minute I said "Judy", I saw a rabbit ear dart up from behind the car. Two heads, a rabbit and a fox peaked around the corner of the vehicle.

"Hey, Mchorn. He's right."

"Judy, you sure? He's a civilian…"

"Who from what I've heard, worked in violent crimes, perfect for today. He's a specialist of sorts," I heard Nick chime in.

"Fine. You're clear to go ahead."

I ducked under the tape, and walked a few steps. Then I reached into my jacket, where I found my pack of cigarettes. I flicked the lid open, to find them labeled multiple colors. Blue for calm, Red for combat, and Orange for investigative. I took out one of the orange ones, and my zippo lighter, lit it, and took a drag. A quick glance in the car's rear view mirror, showed my eyes change color, from their once vibrant yellow to a dull orange. It was kicking in.

"Oskar. Your eyes…" Judy said, worried

"I know."

"But…"

"Just Trust me." I walked over to the car, while sliding a pair of blue latex gloves onto my hands. I then started to speak.

"Alright people. Let's dust the rust off the old CSI hinges shall we. How old is he."

"Twenty-seven" I heard a voice of an officer say.

"That explains his attire. He being related to a gang is likely due to the matching green colors. He fell from that window right?" I said whilst pointing at

"Yep. I still think he jumped," chimed in another officer, a ferret, in a CSI jacket.

"Hold on a minute. Someone help me lift him." A polar bear walked over, and helped me in rolling the victim off the roof, and onto the concrete.

"I need some scissors and tweezers." The ferret rushed them over, and in a few seconds I had cut open the wolf's baggy sports jersey, and found what I had feared. A bullet entry wound. No exit wound which further confirmed my thoughts about the shooter. I could see the glimmer of a bullet, embedded in his abdomen. The tweezers caught it, revealing the 50 caliber slug.

"Jesus," I heard Judy say in between retches.

"I know, it's grisly. This right here is a 50 caliber round. Judging by its placement, it most likely was fired 3,000 yards east. From the scorch patterns and scratches in the bullet, I can tell it was fired from a Barret 50 cal. That's military grade hardware."

"So he was shot. That still doesn't explain the money," said the ferret.

"Have you checked the room he fell from yet?"

"No…"

"What, is this amateur hour come on people." With that, we entered the building.

It was like a scene from a horror movie. Bodies of multiple species from polar bear to wolf strewn across the cheaply furnished apartment. They all were clutching firearms, but I couldn't see any shell casings. Strange. There was a duffle bag in the corner of the room, ripped in half, hundred dollar bills spilling out. The team got to work, breaking down the crime scene. But I already knew what went down.

"A foothold," I said under my breath.

"What's that," asked Judy.

"What's the easiest way to take over a crime infested area," I said

"Easy. You either buy out the gangs or…," Nick said

"You eliminate the competition. Ok. So we know this an advanced gang. From what I see. They went in hard in fast, judging by the lack of shell casings."

"They never even stood a chance," said Judy.

"Exactly. This and the high caliber sniper round I found make me think one thing."

"What's that," said the ferret from earlier.

"These guys aren't a gang. We are dealing with some special ops shit. The 911 call was called for the body right?"

"Yeah, Why," said Nick.

"It wasn't for firearm discharge. That means suppressors, and at _minimum_ two man team, maybe three. That further confirms this theory. Do we know what they were pushing?"

"Yeah. I knew a friend of a friend who worked for them. They mostly ran weapons."

"Weapons dealers. Huh," said Judy.

"What," I said.

"If these mammals were selling weapons, maybe they sold them to whoever did this."

"Good point. That's probably the most likely scenario. These guys were clearly taken off guard. Plus, they hadn't even counted their money from the previous deal."

"Holy crap Oscar. Where did you learn all this stuff? You said you were military."

"First off, I was a mercenary of sorts. My agency contracted me out a lot, as I was the most efficient agent in my field. Second, I know how to put myself in my enemy's shoes. Works well enough whilst on the job." We were interrupted by the polar bear from earlier.

"Hey, Oscar. There's a cub outside. Said he heard some talking earlier."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"Hold on a second." I went into the hallway of the building to be met by a cheetah cub and his mother, clad in sleep attire. Their eyes widened at my appearance. One of the major pitfalls of being sort of famous. You get recognized a lot.

"Am I in trouble," he said, starting to step behind his mother.

"No worries little dude. The nice police mammal told me you heard some talking earlier."

"Oh. That."

"Would you care to tell me what you heard?"

"You a cop," the mother interjected, with a scraggly voice. I could tell she was a smoker from the stains on her fur.

"I'm a specialist of sorts. Specifically in the crimes perpetrated here today."

The cub spoke up again "I heard some talking about a ware house and a name."

"What was the name?"

"It wasn't a normal name. Ventur- something"

"Ventura," I echoed

"Yeah, that's it."

"Shit Shit Shit Shit. He's here. I thought I had more tim-" I mumbled while starting to pace down the hallway.

"Hey Oscar, you okay," asked Judy, with an obvious note of concern.

"I'm fine," I said.

"You sure? I know the bodies are disturbing, but…" Nick interjected.

"It's not that," I said

"What is it then?"

"It's the name."

"What? Ventura. What does that have to do with anything?"

"It's a call sign. More specifically it's a retired call sign from after my unit disbanded."

"And?"

"Agent Ventura was the reason Task Force Sigma, _my unit_ , was disbanded. He was corrupt, stole a bunch of money, and went dark. Apparently not long after he formed his own organization."

"That explains everything. If these guys were agents, that would match up with it all. Small team, social engineering, stealth equipment."

"And they are right here, in this city."

"Judging by what the kid said, they went to a warehouse."

"Oscar, there are only three abondend ones in this part of the city, One is a lumber mill. It hasn't been used in probably a decade. If I wanted to mask something illegal…"

"Good thinking. I'll meet you there."

"You can't go there. These guys are heavily armed. You don't stand a chance."

"Do I need to tell you the story of how I got captured by Venezuelan rebels, and had to escape a heavily fortified camp with nothing but a stick, and one tennis shoe? I think I can take on a few of these guy's with police backup."

"You're right I guess you can be there." With that being said, I exited the building, and got into my car. Some fast forwarding on my cassette tape, brought me Owner of a Lonely Heart by Yes. The night sky reflected off the buildings of Zootopia. It acted as a calming sight. I still needed my nerves. The fight wasn't over yet. With the engine revving, I sped off to the uncertainty of my destination.

 _Meanwhile_

The metal arm rested his radio on the black nightstand in his bedroom. The Man Who Sold the World played, as he plopped down onto his bed. His surroundings were strange. The main office of the lumber mill had been converted into his own personal quarters. It worked well enough between ops. Plus, there always was plenty of space for their gear. They would need all of it. Operation Fire Hawk was underway, and nothing could stop Emmet Ogden. He chuckled and picked up the Unica 60ds revolver on his nightstand. In the other hand, he looked at a photo. A younger version of him and multiple other men in black combat gear standing in front of a smoldering Mexican village. _Campeche._ Such a shame. It was always beautiful that time of year. The man in the middle was clutching an AK-12 assault rifle, and his piercing red eyes were glaring at the camera.

"We'll see each other very soon, Mr. Donnelly," said Emmet. With a strike of a match, the piece of paper was enveloped in flames in the steel waste bin, leaving only embers.

 **A/N:**

 **Thank you all for standing by this story. Schools been very tough lately, and I have been struggling to balance homework and this. Guess that's just how high school is right? I hope you enjoy this chapter. The next one will have plenty of action. As always, leave a comment if you wish (they always help). If you have any questions or fan art feel free to PM me. I'm still open to ideas for cover art. Peace.**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Catch and Release

I sat on the hill above the lumber mill. Peering through my monocular, I could make out six armed guards, patrolling around the perimeter. All Shadow agents. Great. A red helicopter flew by. I could make out the numbers 5 and 9 painted on the tail. A lot of air traffic for an abandoned part of town. My spying was cut short when several other cars pulled up behind me, and cut their engines. One swat truck and four police cruisers. One pulled up to me, and its passengers, Judy and Nick got out.

"What do we have here," Nick said.

"It's what I thought. These guys are mercs. Legally licensed firearms, borderline military stature, but somewhat relaxed. They only have half a dozen on patrol though. If we hit them hard and fast, with a small ground team, backed up by snipers, we should overpower them. Speaking of which, where's your lethals?" They all lacked proper weaponry, with only a few carrying those Taser rifles we ran into earlier.

"What do you mean," said Judy.

"Oh, you have got to be fucking with me right now. Seriously?"

"We are going in non-lethally, Oscar. These mammals are of no use to us dead."

"They're no use to us alive either. Trust me, I've tried interrogating these fuckers. They are so brainwashed, each of them has a cyanide capsule embedded in their left molar. Half of the ones I made an attempt with killed themselves on sight, and the rest did it within a few days."

"Holy shit," I heard a grey wolf mumble in the back

"Talk about dedication to the cause…" said Nick, causing Judy to sigh and elbow him in the ribs.

"Hey Rob, get the stuff," yelled Judy.

"You sure? You are breaking all kinds of protocol," said a panther leaning against the Swat Truck.

"Oskar's right. We are not going to use lethals, but I think Oscar could be quite an asset."

"Thanks. I can work with non-lethal tech, if there is no other option. I've done it before."

"Judy, this isn't exactly a good idea. Bringing in a civilian. You could lose your job, if he gets injured. It's bad enough that we have a criminal here…"

"Hey, don't forget he whopped your ass. Legally. He can take care of himself," interjected Nick.

"You're funeral," he mumbled, as he threw a carbon fiber case at my feet. I clicked it open to reveal several Mossberg style shotguns, and a few flashbangs.

"Those right there are M-12 crowd deterrents. Specially designed to fire police standard M2 Taser rounds. Plus, they are really fucking loud," Nick said.

"Now we're talking," I said, as I took one out of the crate, along with some ammo, and two flashbangs.

"You sure you can use that," Judy questioned, but was halted by me loading the shotgun, and chambering a round.

"Never mind." I went to my truck, to put on a tactical vest, and my mark 1 tactical helmet. Sure it was old tech, but it was good at stopping bullets. The old Windows 95 type intro played. The helmet had a built in ocular tracker, which I used to select the mp3 app. By the time I had my song of choice queued up, Judy was briefing the officers on the scenario. We divided off into three teams, mine being an officer named Wolford and Nick. We all split off, to cover our objective, mine being secure, and breach the northern entrance, a semi guarded metal door. A click of the button on the side of my helmet, began to play my song (Spaz by N.E.R.D). My team crouched ran to the building, to start the assault.

 _Inside The Warehouse_

Anderson Smithers, had always drifted through life. How he ended up as a member of the shadow escaped him. One day, he was a part of Task Force Upsilon. They were no task force Sigma, mainly due to their lack of augmented operatives, but they were semi well known. Anderson was a rank three field agent, when Emmet approached him. It was at a bar. A lot of meetings of suspicious intent took place at a bar. Emmet made him an offer. Double his salary, but quit the agency. Emmet had a think tank going, after he was banned from task force sigma. They wanted to take down the P.P.S.S. Anderson was weary at first, seeing as the agency was a division of homeland security, which would make all their actions treason. But he took the deal, and somewhere down the line, that got him into Zootopia. He wasn't focused on this however, rather Jenkins not reporting in. The old bastard would usually wake up, after a few yells into the mic (He was very fond of taking naps on the job). That worried them. By them, the twenty some individuals in the building. Most were in a ready position with their standard issue Ak-12s and a few MP5s. Then the northernmost door opened, with Jenkins lifeless corpse flopping on the ground. Smithers, and a few others walked over to the corpse, and flipped it onto its back. Then the grenade exploded. There was a bang and a blinding flash, followed by smoke. The only discernable thing Anderson could make out was a reddish glow. It got closer two him, before he realized it belonged to a helmet. Donnelly. Before he could even react, there was another bang, followed by an electrifying shock, before he slumped over barely conscious. His vision still remained, and he could see doors opening up on all sides of the buildings. More flashes and more smoke. They never even stood a chance. The most prominent fighter was Oscar (obviously). It was like a dance to him, spinning around, ducking under shots and blows, only to counter with a jab, arm snap, or shot from his weapon. In under 45 seconds, all shadow agents were on the floor, mostly in part to Oscar. With the battle over, Anderson slumped into unconsciousness, his strength depleted.

Oscar Donnelly

00:01 hours

East Zootopia

The helmet clicked off my head, allowing a breath of fresh air. Sure my hair was now a little rustled, but I didn't give a shit. Judy and nick were standing by a staircase, leading to the second floor. It was an office, as far as I could tell. The scope of the building hit me. Something was odd. It was mostly empty, save a few crates. Not nearly enough to sustain a full scale military op. That meant one of two things. Either they were moving, and we caught them in an act, or this sight was a front. I wasn't in the mood to tell either of them, so I shrugged it off.

"The door's blocked off. We have to breach it," said an officer.

"Any movement. We can't afford Agent Ventura to escape." I asked.

"Nothing. Carrots would have picked it up." Said Nick, whilst gesturing to her ears.

"Whatever, Nick. Let's get this over with. Bag em and tag em," Judy yelled, whilst trying to kick down the door. She was cut short, when it swung open, only to reveal the man himself. Emmet Tiberius Ogden, leaning against the door, bracing with his prosthetic, in the other hand clutching cigar. 312 confirmed kills, 112 of which were agency sanctioned. I could remember he was left handed. Preferred fine wines over scotch, actually liked the Madea Movies, and owned every Beach Boys album. But that was the old Emmet. The one who would jump in front of a bullet for anyone on sigma team, including myself. That changed, when I found myself on the end of the gun he possessed. My thoughts were cut short, when he began to speak.

"Howdy,"

"That's all you have to say. Holy Shit. You're lucky I'm not putting a round through your chest as we speak. I should kill you right now. Wring you're scrawny little neck, and watch your pathetic excuse of a life leave your body. "

"Jesus, slow you're roll Oscar," Nick said with shock "You Agent Ventura?"

"Haven't heard that name in forever. Nowadays I prefer Emmet."

"Well, Mr. "Emmet". You are under arrest for the illegal trafficking of weapons, undeclared use of military contractors in a metropolitan area, and the involvement in the murders of Tyrone and Franklin Smith, Bobby Clawfield, and Ray Northert."

"Okay." This shook Judy. Obviously she wasn't used to dealing with criminal Sociopaths. If it was up to me I'd put a bullet in him. Drastic? Maybe. But that's usually what most of my jobs ended with. A bullet in someone's back. Sometimes me. Judy Mirandized Emmet, and the rest of the officers rounded up him and the remaining troops for the police transporters.

"Well that was interesting. Uncovering a massive ring of criminals was not exactly how I planned to spend my Saturday evening, but life is full of surprises." Nick joked.

"Amen to that," Judy responded. That evoked a small laugh from us. Then awkward silence. Were we friends? Sure. I guess we never really talked as much after I got my teaching job. Hopefully that would change. It was October. I had a few days off in the next coming weeks, and if I didn't get any contracts from Janice, maybe we could hang out.

"Now what," I asked.

"You go home and get some rest. We have some paperwork for you to fill out. Plus we need you for the interrogation, so you could just kill two birds with one stone. Finish both in under an hour," Judy said. The rest was a blur, the only coherent memory being the roar of the engines as I sped back to my apartment. Next thing I knew, I was on my couch, getting drunk off my arse. That was a solution to many of my problems. Swig after swig from a bottle of Dalmore I bought after my reserve Glenlivet ran close to empty. I wasn't a huge fan of Dalmore, but it was decent enough to serve its purpose of self-medication. That's how I ended up passed out on the before-mentioned couch, wearing only my t-shirt and boxers. Then I started to dream. It was flashes this time. Not my usual dream. It was the normal me. I recognized the age on his face. Only six years ago. I was at a bar. New Orleans, judging by the Mardi Gras festival in full swing outside. I was here on mission however. My whole attire was designed to blend in, from the beige Hawaiian shirt to the brown cargo shorts and sandals. Then there was her. Vibrant green eyes and brown almost orange hair. She sat right next to me, despite the bar being almost entirely empty, and ordered what I was having. Double shot of Glenlivet.

"Where ya from," she said.

"New York," I deadpanned.

"No way! Same here. You catholic?"

"Nah. I just wanted to get away. Change the scenery for a while."

"We all want that every so often."

"Yep"

"Well you aren't going to experience the city wallowing in this bar. I've been living in this city for a while now. I could show you around. Hell, you might end up having fun."

"What? Fun! What is the meaning of this word," I said theatrically. She chuckled, and grabbed me, pulling me out into the streets.

Then I woke up. The alarm on my phone jolted me awake. The time was 9:00. I slept in. There was a text on my phone. It was Judy. _"Can you pick up nick? I figured I'd let him sleep in. He's been picking up a lot of overtime lately, and it's really took a toll."_ Sure, I replied. I threw on some clothes. A pair of blue jeans, my converse sneakers, a plain grey t-shirt and my leather jacket. My go-bag was by the door. It contained a few necessary items in case things got out of hand. With that, I left the building, and began my drive to Nick's residence.

He was waiting outside. The front seat was way too big for him, but Nick didn't care. I started to drive, and flicked on the radio. Classical.

"What's going on," I said

"Nothing much amigo," he said.

"How's life treating you?"

"Can't complain. How's teaching working out for you?"

"It's okay. Last night reminded me how much I miss field work."

"How so?"

"When I was an agent, we did stuff like that all the time. Usually it involved more bullets, but it always was fast paced. I guess I became used to it."

"I never understood how your world worked. From what you've told me, it sounds pretty violent."

"Oh it is. We humans have just learned to deal with it, sadly. There is still some calm in the storm there. Just not as much."

"Sounds depressing. At least here there isn't world conflicts around every corner."

"That's a line from my memoirs. You read them?"

"Yeah, me and half of Zootopia. If you didn't want them to be found, you shouldn't have put them on the internet, with your pen name just your name spelled backwards."

"Point taken. What did you think?"

"They're good. Could use some more pizzazz (chapter 9 drug on for a while). Also there were some typos. You really need some form of spellchecker."

"The words aren't wrong believe me. That's how they're spelled where I'm from. No puns."

"Huh. So how would you spell…Mouster Card.?"

"Master Card."

"Huh. I guess that makes sense."

"Why even is it spelled that way?"

"I have no idea," he said with a chuckle. We arrived at the station. I parked my car outside, and we ascended the steps into the building. Immediately, we were swarmed by reporters. Guess news travels fast. With some light pushing and some cursing, we made it through the great wall of press. A short walk, and we met Judy.

"Good morning Nick. Oscar. Emmet is inside interrogation room eight. Nick and I will handle the interrogation. You know him, so I want you behind the glass. When we are done, you will give us your opinion."

"Sounds good," we said in unison. I went into the door marked "I 8: viewing". There were some monitors and a chair, where I took my seat. The interrogation began.

"Good morning, Mr. Ogden. I'm Judy Hopps, and this is my partner Nick Wilde. We are here to ask you some questions."

"Good luck. I ain't got nothing to say to ya."

"It would be a good idea if you cooperated. Or I can stick you in the cell of a Mr. Sam Northert."

"Never heard of him."

"You should. You're connected to the murder of his brother. You wouldn't last a night. Try fighting off a polar bear, while in handcuffs."

"Well damn. That's an A plus threat. The only thing is, you don't scare me. Why don't you bring out Oscar from behind the glass," Crap. They didn't remove his eye contacts. Thermal Tech. They used to be standard issue, until they started shorting out.

"Even _if_ Mr. Donnelly was her, which he isn't, he has no authority in an interrogation room. The guy's a merc, not a cop."

"Hah. He told you he was a merc. Are you kidding me? You bought that shit?"

"What do you mean?" Judy asked, obviously intrigued.

"Military Contractor is just a convenient excuse to be used on job applications or police reports, to explain the high skill set we possess."

"How do you know?"

"It's protocol. We all had to do this."

"Do what?"

"Lie"

"You don't know that he lied."

"Believe me, I do. Tell me, does a "mercenary" pick up the nickname "diablo" in certain parts of the world. Does a "mercenary" kill someone's family, without any form of remorse? Can a simple mercenary singlehandedly take down twelve armed people with nothing but a _pen knife?"_

"Well Oscar is no ordinary person."

"Get your mind out of the gutter. He is no person. When the diablo side of him emerges, there is no stopping it" Suddenly a badger emerged through the door, Clawhauser in suit, clearly out of breath. He muttered something about needing to work more on cardio, before returning to his desk.

"Don't say anything more, Emmet."

"Who are you," Judy said with a tone of anger.

"I'm Emmet's lawyer. He is legally free to go," said the badger.

"Excuse me? You can't just barge in mid interrogation."

"Oh, believe me, I can. You entered Tresdem property, without a warrant. Emmet's detainment is completely unfounded."

"Unfounded! We found unregistered mercenaries and military equipment on the premise, connecting him to _three_ murders."

"First off, remember the warrant, and secondly Emmett is an employee of Tresdem, as well as those people you found."

"Even still, the mercenaries _and_ Emmer, are members of an endangered species. As they have not been registered, that requires a proper fine…"

"Which is not handled at this precinct. Only stations 12 and 19 handle such matters. Come on Emmet."

"Toodles," he said as he walked out with a cheerful wave and grin. I barged through the door.

"You're just going to let him walk out. The man's a danger to society. A total criminal nutcase."

"Nothing we could do amigo. Tresdem has quite a few lawyers in their pocket."

"The hell is Tresdem?"

"They're a merc company. Good one too. They're very selective with their hiring." A merc company? What's Emmet doing working for a mercs. Unless, they weren't actually a merc company. We were walking under a skylight, still arguing, when a red helicopter flew by. Its serial number was JNMW-1459. Crap.

"Evacuate the building."

"What? Why?" I didn't answer her, as I was running/jogging towards Emmet, still pushing through the crowds. He was dodging questions, when he nodded to his lawyer, who booked it out of the building. Only a few reporters followed. He made eye contact with me before producing his phone. He mouthed show time and winked. I broke out into a sprint, but didn't get very far, before a shockwave threw me off my feet, throwing me against a wall, and knocking me unconscious.

 **A/N**

 **Thank you all for reading yet another chapter of this series. I have spent a lot of time with school lately, which has sapped most of my energy. What once was a few hundred words a day turned into fifty. With that being said, I would like to open a Q and A. Comment your question (keep it PG people), and I will answer it. Also, I am running low on pun names and brands so feel free to send those, for a chance of a shout out. Like always comment if you want (I deeply appreciate it) or PM me with any ideas.**

 **Peace**

 **-Mlg Fedora**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: The Gunman

I became aware of my surroundings fairly quickly. Judging by the fact that mammals were running around me in a crazed frenzy, I had only been unconscious for a few seconds. Not all of the mammals were running. Many were scattered across the floor, their injuries varied from scrapes to the mortal. My name echoed, until I heard it being yelled with clarity.

"Oscar! Wake Up!" It was Judy. She was standing over me, a look of shock was I grunted, whilst rolling to my feet.

"That's quite a hit you took there. Are you alright?" she asked, visibly worried.

"Quite a hit? You flew across the room. At the speed you flew, I'm surprised you didn't break the damn sound barrier," Said the familiar voice of Nick, in between a few coughs. He was standing a few yards back helping an elderly sheep to cover.

"I'm fine," I said somewhat annoyed. Not at Judy or Nick. At Emmet. He did this. That bastard was going to pay. "What's going on?"

"A bomb went off. We have to get to safety."

"Where's Emmet?" I said, more angry than inquisitive.

"He's just standing there." Judy's eyes darted to the front entryway. She was right. In the middle of a cloud of dust, he stood. He was fiddling with his prosthetic. Then I remembered the helicopter. It hovered over the skylights. Then I saw the fast ropes. The glass shattered, making the screams of fear louder. I counted at least forty SHADOW agents. Then even more poured in. Cars crashed through walls. Chunks of the floor exploded. By the time it was all said and done, the forty had grown to at least a hundred. Some were standard troops. Assault gear. A mix of shotguns and AK-12s. Close range gear. Then there was the others. Shock trooper armor. Electricity based weapons, and americium laced ballistic weapons. They were here for me. Then I heard some static, followed by a booming and gravelly voice. Emmet's prosthetic could be used for a lot, including tapping into certain frequencies, including PA systems.

"Good morning everybody. How's it going," The word going kind of became muted, as Emmet walked over to an injured ram trying to crawl away, and brought the steel toed portion of his combat boot down hard. Everybody else cringed, except me and the shadow agents. Heck the shadow agents even chuckled. I just remained silent. I saw it coming. Let's just say, Emmet was kind of prone to violent outbursts. It was his nature.

"What do you want," Nick deadpanned, whilst glaring into Emmet's eyes. Emmet's eyes lit up with joy, a smirk growing on his face. He squatted down, the oversized leather jacket almost touching the floor, and looked nick dead in the eyes.

"That's a good question senor." He gestured to me "You see that worthless sack of shit standing next to you. He's the one that gave me this scar on my face. Ruined my life. _Betrayed me._ Long story short. I'm going to kill him. Right here. Right now. Oh I almost forgot. George! Bring me Mr. Sprinkles." An agent in standard gear pushed his way through the group of agents, clutching a cherry wood case. He reached Emmet, clicked his heals and stood at attention, case resting on is outstretched arms. It clicked open, and Emmet pulled out his red-painted hand cannon, and fired randomly into the crowd, striking a tiger officer. Judy looked back in shock, and tried to move, but nick stopped her.

"Don't do it. Let him speak," I grumbled under my breath.

"Cops are really gonna inconvenience my operation. That's why I'm gonna get rid of them. At least most of them. So…you can run. But that's gonna delay the inevitable bullet crashing through your skull."

"You know, that's an interesting theory on how to run a sweep op. Trust me. We've run them together a few times. Don't think I easily forget Nicaragua. But one thing is different from all of those other times. I'm on the other end. You have seen me in action before, and you are well aware, that most, if not all of the people in this room are not going to leave alive. So, with that in mind, I give you a choice. Walk out that door, or face the consequences." Emmet laughed, and glared at me. I took that as a no. Guess things were gonna have to happen the hard way. But first, I needed to get to cover. The silence of the room was broken. I threw the time bomb I had been holding behind my back, creating a small pocket of blue, with the energy of a miniature quasar in the middle of the group, its gravity drawing in all of the agents, making them unable to do something. But it would collapse soon. The civilians and cops had started to scatter, some running for the armory, others for the exit. Quickly, I grabbed the stunned Nick and Judy, and dove over cover, the cover being the help desk. Without a word, I began opening my go bag. Sitting right on top was a small black tactical case, about the size of an iPad mini. I set that to the side, and instead pulled out my black polymer leg holster, with my Sig Sauer p227 with muzzle compensator attached. I clipped that to its strap, and wrapped it around my thigh. The next item was my tactical magazine holders. I counted two. That gave me 45 rounds. I'd have to improvise the rest. I glanced over, my staring reflex kicking in. To my left sat judy and nick, staring at me in confusion.

"What?" I shrugged nonchalantly

"What the hell was that," Judy yelled clearly confused.

"What the quasar grenade. It freezes time in a localized area. Should buy me 180 seconds or so to get ready."

"For what," nick asked. I cocked my head sideways in annoyance.

"Look. I get your pretty new to my world. But you're going to have to realize something." I cocked my gun.

"These guys don't screw around. The only way to get rid of them is to _put them down_. That means lethal force. Me doing what I am about to do is going to save a lot of lives. But you can't be here. I can't put you through what you would see if you guy's stayed. You need to save as many as you can. I'll distract as many as I can."

"Bu-but you'll die. You versus over a hundred. Those aren't exactly good odds," Nick scoffed after stuttering.

"I've had worse odds, believe me," I said as strapping the sheath of my kabar to the other side of my belt, and pocketing a smoke grenade. There was only one more thing to precede the case. My gauntlet. It stretched to about halfway up my wrist. I threw a few switches on the side, activating the bright blue screen, displaying the PPSS logo that sat on top. With a quick scan, I had ammo readouts, core body temp, heartrate, and a layout of the area. Then came the last piece. The case. With a few clicks of some buttons it hissed open, releasing the cool liquid nitrogen. In the case sat two needles, one a three inch long hypodermic, with a targeting laser, the other resembling a morphine auto injector. The primer. I removed the blue safety pin, and picked up the other needle, while holding rolling up my shirt, revealing the dozens of track marks by my heart.

"Listen. In this needle in my right hand is what augmented agents call a primer. It's basically cocaine on steroids. When my eyes dilate, tell me. That will be a sign to actually inject the other serum." I held the other needle steady over my heart, the targeting laser recognizing my left atrium.

"Why-, you know, I don't want to know." The needle met my thigh. I almost felt the effects immediately. The BPM meter on my gauntlet nearly doubled. Through my high, I heard now. With that, I plunged the second needle through one of the track marks, careful to avoid my scar. With a reflex, I flicked on my sunglasses, and placed in my earpiece.

"The minute I start talking, start moving as many wounded out the back entrance as you can. Keep low and keep quiet. Also, whatever you hear, _don't turn back._ " She nodded, and nick looked at me with a look of worry. I was getting a lot of those these days.

I hopped the desk, just as the quasar grenade dissipated. Immediately, the Shadow agents raised their rifles.

"WAIT!" I screamed with my hands up. They paused.

"I'll give you guys a chance. Leave. Don't look back."

"Or what?" yelled one of the agents, holding a pulse rifle. I recognized his voice instantly. It was Danny from beta squad. He was always a total douche.

"Or-OR I'LL KILL EVERY ONE OF YOU, AND FORCE FEAD YOUR CORPSES TO THE BIRDS!" my voice cracked on the last word. They all laughed, and raised their guns. The sounds of automatic rifles filled the room. I shook uncontrollably from the force of the bullets, my body collapsing to the ground. I think I heard Judy yell something. But I was fading. My eyes closed, and I smiled.

I jolted awake. My surroundings were different. I was sitting under a sycamore tree that sat atop a small hill. Beyond the hill, a pond could be seen, and beyond the pond, fields of prairie grass stretched for miles on end. _La Vie En Rose_ hummed over a crackly radio somewhere in the distance. He didn't know where. Then he saw the woman. Tall. Brown bordering on red hair. Beautiful complexion. She wore a white sundress and a sunhat. No shoes. I looked down at my own apparel. White dress shirt and khakis. I also wore no shoes.

"Hello Oscar," an all too familiar voice nearly whispered.

"Cassandra. How are you?"

"As good as I can be. You going to stay this time?"

"I wish I could. But there are things I must do first. I-" she pulled me into a kiss. The embrace we shared seemed like a distant memory. Something that had happened many times before, but hadn't.

"I know. Do what you have to, Oscar." My surroundings began to fade to white then black. My eyes opened again, the beautiful oasis, replaced with cold brown tile and towering concrete walls. I looked at my gauntlet. Only 6.7301 seconds had passed. Damn. I was getting slower. But I was back. I felt the serum taking effect. My whole body was washed over with a wave of warmth. Then the rage. I was redlining, as I could see my core temp and heart rate skyrocket. I flipped off of my back, and my sneakers hit the ground, squeaking on impact. The soldiers surrounding me stumbled back in shock, they receded to move forward slowly, in an attempt to entrap me.

"O-oh you _really_ shouldn't have done that. A smirk grew on my face I drew my Kabar knife to my hand. In a long swiping motion, the knife penetrated the space between one of the armored plates on an assailant (specifically in the jugular region). In one motion, I had retrieved the agent's service pistol from his holster, who was now tumbling to the ground. I whipped around, facing a standard agent and unloaded several shots point blank to his chest. In the vein of Chuck Norris, I threw a round house at another, and with a quick snap shot he was down. Two more circled me. I pulled one's ak-12 towards me, stretching his arms out for me to attack. With one chop, I heard a sickening crunch, and saw his left arm move unnaturally downwards. With his weapon now in my possession, I opened fire. I guess the other agents had the same idea. But I wasn't worried. Their bullets couldn't harm me. The shells collided with several others, whilst there's collided, but had no effect.

At the same time, I kept moving, ducking and pushing through agents, whilst avoiding being out in shooting range for any time over a second. I was more concerned about the advanced agents. I saw another one, lining up a shot, standing in the corner of the crowd. I sprinted directly at him. He flinched. Too bad for him. My forward momentum allowed me to slash my knife across a standard agent's chest and knees, sending him down. Now I had a stepstool. Still running, I leaped off his back, and brought the knife down, causing it to crack through his helmet, and become lodged there. Now I had more space to work with. About 30% of them rushed me, while the others retreated to a better position. I drew my pistol, keeping it close to my body, while still maintaining a weaver stance. One shot after the next. Each was a perfect headshot. However, they didn't all charge at me directly. Some flanked around. I counted five on each side. None were advanced. I let them get close, before disarming one. I jabbed him in the throat, and used his shock to place my barrel under his chin and squeeze the trigger. He fell back lifeless. Another fired a shotgun, its pellets peppering my chest. I kicked him in the chest, and fired three shots to the same region. More surrounded and more were put down, with precision accuracy. Blood stained the walls and floors. My clip was empty now. I reloaded, and continued to fight. More continued to fall in gloriously violent fashion.

The fight was far from done. Another wave swarmed me. It toke me emptying a clip into a few more to notice something. One of the agents was dumb enough to leave his grenades hanging off his vest. With one pull of the pins, and a roll behind cover, most were down. I was only left with ten. And one was Emmet. I sprinted, letting out a primal yell. I fired at the closest one, striking his neck and chest, and rolled around his falling corpse. I executed a tactical roll, grabbing a shotgun disgarded on the ground like a fallen tree limb. It was a semi auto bennelli. I took down six before the gun clicked empty. Now only stood three.

"If you going to do something right, do it yourself." Emmet mumbled. He charged me. This was it. My chance to put the bastard down. But I didn't take into account the pulse weaponry in his metal arm. One punch put me down. He was about to fire. But then I heard shots. I couldn't tell from where. But that didn't matter. They were on the run. A van crashed through a side door, and Emmet hopped in. He said tootles snarkilly and gave a mock salute goodbye. I had to go after them. I looked at my watch. I was running out of time. I was going to crash. My memory became faded. Next thing I knew, I was on a mini bike. I… Stole it? Yes. That's right. I stole it. Kicked a cheetah off and teared after. I was right behind the van. We were an industrial district, with traffic blocked off for the most part. Towering smokestacks dotted the horizon. I drew my pistol, and fired. It slowed the truck down. It was at the point where the bike and van sat parallel on the cracked asphalt, moving at a good clip. Then I jumped on the side. Rolling around, I opened the back door. Nothing. Only the driver. I jumped out the back, and shot the tires out the second I hit the ground. It flipped, hitting the ground with a screeching halt. The driver crawled out and ran. I pursued. My memory cut again. I was following him up a latter. We were on the side of an old office building, a for lease sign weathered by years of neglect hanging on the north side. We reached the top. I looked off into the distance, seeing roughly a dozen squad cars nearby. Some mammals were running towards the building. I turned back to the driver. Field Agent Rank One. Daniel Wong. Chinese immigrant. Excelled in competitive driving and hand to hand combat. We walked towards each other, circling. He pulled out a karambit from his wrist, I a push knife. He swiped in a parallel motion, catching my in the chest. But he made the mistake of getting close. I kneed him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. In a blur of motion, I pulled out his knife holding arm, and spun around, snapping it on my shoulder. The weapon fell limply out of his hands. He threw a right hook, and a spinning heel kick. With his left hand disabled, he picked up the knife with his left hand I felt my glasses leave my face. I turned back to Daniel.

"Your eyes! You really are what they say you are diablo. A demon!" I saw my reflection in my knife. My eyes had shifted from their natural yellow to red, with the sclera bloodshot. He never should have removed those glasses. I yelled, and lunged at him. This clearly caught him off guard. His karambit blade became hidden in my gut. His triumph turned to horror, when he saw it clearly hadn't phased me. I head-butted him, and stuck my hand out. I now had him by the neck, my knife darting in and out of the stomach region. The pure steel of before was now dripping in red. To add insult to injury, I lifted him up by the neck, his feet hovering above the ground. I walked to the edge. His legs started to kick at nothing, except the forty foot drop that awaited him. Then I heard a voice. It was Judy's. I heard something I never heard from her. Fear.

"Oscar. P-put him down. You don't need to," she choked on the next word "Kill anybody else." I turned to her. She was standing with Nick, both now wearing vests. They saw my eyes.

"Oscar. You don't look very good. Maybe you should come with us. See a doctor. After all, you _are_ severely injured. We'll deal with this guy," Nick gestured to a swat van sitting below.

"Don't listen to them," Daniel whispered harshly through his accent, a mix of Bronx and Chinese. "Let your anger take over. FINNISH ME. After all, my death would mean nothing to the other operations…"

"What operations?"

"Take a look." His watched beeped almost simultaneously with a boom off in the distance, Then another. I saw pillars of smoke rise from different biomes in the city." Then my gauntlet beeped.

"Times up," Daniel said. He hooked his legs onto my torso. I felt the barrel of a Beretta pressed against my chest. Then the crack of gunshots. One. Two. Three. My chest arched back awkwardly. Everything became blurry, unlike regular bullets. Americium. Shit. Two tranq darts collided with Daniel, but did nothing. The barrel of the gun, was now against my temple. Everything slowed. I saw everything. Daniel blinking. Judy running to me firing her tranq gun again. Nick attempting to tackle Daniel, but getting backhanded back several feet. Then I heard a crack. A cloud of red mist erupted from my attacker's chest. He got back up and staggered back to the edge. He was shot again, this time, his head recoiling back, and his lifeless corpse flipping off the roof. I turned to the sound of the gunshots, to be met with a figure. He (or she) stood with a polished Unica Six in hand. The person wore a mark 1 scout helmet and a black trench coat. The individual also wore a plate carrier, holding a single mag pouch and pistol holster.

"You're getting sloppy, Donnelly," He or she said through a filtered voice. I got up.

"Really. How would you know?"

"I'd say, but not here." The person, who I know guessed was a he, gestured to Judy and Nick. Judy frowned. Nick looked around in a joking manner.

"Fine. At least tell me my status."

"Indigo"

"Indigo? You fucking kidding me? You'd think after me being her for over a few months I'd be at least at Violet."

"Hey, don't take it up with me. You know how management is. If they want to contact you, they will. But in case you haven't noticed, you kind of went on a hundred person rampage, then carjacked a cheetah and proceeded to chase a van for twenty blocks. On top of all that, you decided to fight Agent Wong, In the MIDDLE OF DOWNTOWN!"

"Excuse me, but what is going on here," Judy spoke up. Quietly.

"Nothing, Kid, save the fact that your pal broke about a dozen of our agency's rules."

"Agency? You're one of Oscar's people," Nick said, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, you could say that."

"Look, can you get me an exfil or not." He sighed.

"Fine. Make the call. Use my code. Victor Sigma X-ray Foxtrot 13-34."

"Got it."

"Oh and Donnelly…"

"Yeah?"

"Patch yourself up. You're bleeding all over the place. Toodles." He stepped off the edge into a blue portal, it shutting quickly behind him. Gunshots? I pulled up my shirt. Three gunshot wounds had shifted to a dark black, the veins around turning varicose. Nick and Judy looked at them and up at me shocked. I looked at the knife on the concrete. My eyes had turned blue.

"Call a bu-"was all I heard from Judy, before my world turned sideways, and briefly shaking when I hit the ground. Nick Was holding pressure on the wounds, while Judy barked into her walkie. There was no light this time when I closed my eyes. Just darkness.

 **A/N: Three months. Long time. I have to say something first. I've been dealing with some family issues for a long time. My father hasn't exactly been around. Heck I only see him twice a year as is. But that's his doing. He would rather spend time in Bora Bora snorkeling, than see his son's final basketball game. It's been quite turbulent. Arguing on both sides, and it has gotten to me. So much so, to the point where I can't even turn on the computer without shutting it off. This compiled with an overwhelming amount of writing homework for school has been especially difficult. But that doesn't matter. I have not been writing. This is why I already have two other chapter lined up to be released in 8 days each. Hopefully this will make up for it. As usual, Review if you wish. It always helps me improve my writing. PM me you want to bounce story ideas off each other, or if you have any animal pun names or brands (which I desperately need). Peace.**

 **-Mlg Fedora**


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